Page 56 of The Good Luck Cafe
Gil:Good to hear. Maybe we can do that again sometime.
He was joking, right? She tapped her thumb along her screen as she replied.
Moira:Not a jail cell. Never again.
Gil:What about my boat then? Monday night?
Moira:For what?
Gil:Well, I was thinking we might review the upcoming community events calendar. I know I’ll be attending all the events. You should be at as many as possible too. To make this campaign fair.
Moira:Helping the enemy?
Gil:You’re not my enemy.
Moira:Is Denise going to be there as well?
Moira knew good and well Denise wouldn’t be.
Gil:Denise can figure out the social events calendar herself. What do you say?
Moira nibbled at her lower lip. She knew that Gil always had a thing for her. She also suspected his invitation was more about his crush than the mayoral campaign. Would spending a little time together under false pretenses really be such a bad thing though? When she wasn’t fuming about the prospect of losing Sweetie’s, she enjoyed Gil’s company.
Moira:Okay. I have to work dispatch Monday. Six o’clock?
Gil:Sounds good. See you then. To discuss the social events calendar.
Moira:Right. See you then.
Chapter Seventeen
On Monday morning, Moira stepped out of Sweetie’s and headed to her car. She drove home and turned on the dispatch at nine a.m. As usual, there were no calls until about midday, when someone called to report a loose dog.
“Is it behaving aggressively?” Moira asked.
“Oh, no. It’s a sweet little darling. I’m feeding her some baked chicken from last night’s dinner.”
Moira sighed. “So the stray is friendly?”
“Yes, of course it is.”
Which didn’t make for an emergency. Even so, Moira contacted animal control, which would likely see the dog and know exactly whom it belonged to. Somerset was a small town after all. The rest of the day, Moira worked on her website as Tess had suggested, creating one on a free platform.
She didn’t exactly have a professional photograph of herself, so she put up one that her mom had taken of her accepting her Hero Among Us award the weekend before last. The award was a notch in her belt along with years of public service. By the time she’d completed her home page, Moira was impressed with herself. On paper, she actually did seem like a great candidate. This was getting real. She was doing this.
The dispatch lit up with another call.
Moira connected the line. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Yes, hi.” The caller’s voice was quiet, hesitating between breaths. “Um, I’d like to report a possible crime. I mean, maybe.”
“Okay. What’s going on?” Moira asked, sensing that the caller was nervous.
“Well, um, I had a date with a guy last night. Um, I’m not really sure what happened.”
All the hairs on Moira’s arms stood up. “Tell me what you are sure of.”
“I just know I woke up this morning in my own bed. I feel like I’m hungover, but I didn’t drink last night. I mean, I don’t remember drinking. I don’t remember much, actually.”
