A Minute on the Lips (5 page)

Andi shook her head. “No. I have you pegged as some city clicker who’s out to pull the wool over my eyes because it keeps you entertained. And if you get a juicy story, too, so much the better. It sells papers.” She snorted. “Am I wrong? You did move here from the city. You do seem to take extreme pleasure in poking at me. And now you’re trying to convince me that you find my uniform attractive. And the truth is you could crook your finger and have any number of women lined up, so there’s no reason to tease me.”

As he buttered a roll, he considered Andi’s answer. He took a big bite and offered the rest to her. She gave him a repressive frown but knew it was a waste of time.

After a quick swig of tea, he said, “Yes, I moved here from the city but maybe that’s an example of my sound judgment. Did you ever figure that?” Without waiting for her answer, he added, “And I enjoy teasing you, that part’s true. If you could see your face, you’d have a hard time always doing the right thing, too.”

He leaned forward. “And as far as that uniform goes, I never meant to say I found it attractive.” Andi shook her head and managed to meet his gaze. “I find you attractive. And that’s nothing but the truth.”

He sat back with a satisfied smirk on his face. Andi needed a gulp of air but she didn’t want to appear undignified. To buy some time, she picked up her glass and managed to snort tea straight up her nose. As she coughed and sputtered, Mark calmly devoured his roll.

After she wiped her face and managed to catch her breath, Andi croaked, “You can’t say things like that to me. Are you trying to kill me?”

He laughed softly and shook his head.

“Listen, I don’t know anything new about Jackie’s robbery yet. When I do, I’ll pass it along, okay? I promise. You don’t have to follow me around to eavesdrop.”

“Okay. Glad to hear it.” He picked up another roll and an amazing glop of butter and introduced them.

“Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

He looked confused. “Uh, no. I’ve ordered dinner. It’ll be here momentarily...” He paused dramatically and Sarah’s flip-flops sounded from the kitchen as she entered the dining room with a tray on her shoulder.

He leaned back to let Sarah place an overflowing plate of ribs right in front of him, with sides of slaw and potato salad. She set down Andi’s meal—iceberg lettuce with chopped vegetables and a few strips each of ham, turkey and grilled chicken—then reached back to get the dressing. When she’d cleared the tray, Sarah tonelessly said, “Enjoy.”

As she watched him pick up the ribs and start eating, Andi scratched her forehead. “You’ve ruined her day, you know? You could pay her a little bit of attention.”

He looked up quickly. His mouth had a small smear of barbecue sauce on it. Andi wanted barbecue sauce in that minute more than she’d ever wanted it. She glanced back down at her uninspiring plate of rabbit food.

“Who? Sarah? I’m a pretty good tipper.”

“No, she wants you to
notice
her.”

He looked in the direction Sarah had disappeared and shrugged before he returned to the ribs. He muttered, “She’s just a baby,” before taking a big bite.

Andi watched him chew for a minute and picked through her salad for the choicest, meatiest bits. “It must be nice to have all that attention.”

He mumbled something like “from babies” but didn’t look up from his meal.

Andi still wanted that barbecue sauce. “Wanda Blankenship’s no baby.”

He glanced up before he hooted. Andi looked around the nearly empty dining room and tried to
shh
him, but the hoots turned to guffaws and he dropped his ribs back onto the plate. When he finally managed to get control of himself, he took a long drink of his tea, then leaned across the table. He looked left and right, then he whispered, “You’re jealous!” Andi shook her head furiously as he sat back and clapped his hands twice. “Jealous! I love it! And I’m honestly relieved, Sheriff. I mean, I managed to charm my way into most of this town’s good graces, but you...you’ve been a real challenge.”

Andi tried to pretend she didn’t know him. She would have pretended not to know herself if she could figure out how. It was one thing for him to be right and a whole different thing for him to
know
he was right.

Andi tried to act calm. She took measured bites of her tasteless yet perfectly suitable salad and sipped her inoffensive iced tea. When Sarah came over with a refill, Andi thanked her politely.

And she waited.

After his celebration ended, he picked up his ribs again and proceeded to demolish them. When he leaned back with a sigh, he said, “All right, Sheriff. Clearly you have the hots for me but you don’t trust me. I can understand that, as I am a newcomer in a town filled with people who sprang up here when the earth was formed.” He shook a finger at her. “What I don’t understand is why you won’t work with me. In my experience, there are two kinds of cops.”

Andi sighed. “Oh, really.”

He nodded. “There’s the grandstander, who considers publicity a perk and a duty. Most places, I find a few of those and I’m set. And then there’s the strong, silent type. Apparently you’re one of those, even though some publicity would help a woman running for reelection. I mean, it was one story, Sheriff. I quoted you directly. How did we go from that to ‘no comment’ on each and every question?” The look on his face said he was mystified and maybe a little...hurt? And that made her mad.

She dropped her fork on her plate with a loud clatter, picked up her tea and tried to convince herself to let it go, just let this moment pass without telling him exactly what she thought. She didn’t need bad press now. But when she put the glass back down with a thump, he’d sat back in his chair and for the first time, he looked serious.

So she took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Let’s think back to that story, why don’t we? Domestic violence. You asked for a solid definition, statistics and tips on what to look for and what to do.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I put in the article. Word for word. Just the facts. None of that seems like a reason for the cold shoulder.”

Andi shook her head. “Honestly, I can’t even... Don’t you know what that story did?”

He tugged on his earlobe and considered the question. “Well, it reported on the problem of domestic violence in small communities and provided tips on how to help.” He frowned. “I’d expect you to be happy about that, Sheriff. I know it’s an issue you’re really interested in.” He tapped his finger on the table. “I
called
you because that was something you spoke about in your campaign. What’s the deal? Did you want more credit?”

Andi realized her tense shoulders were creeping up and forced herself to relax. “What I would have liked was for you to report the story, the whole story, not pick and choose and make me look like some...”

Mark glanced around to see if anyone was listening, and Andi realized she’d raised her voice. The kitchen was probably enjoying the show.

“Like some what?” Mark asked. “I reported the facts, and they weren’t just for this town or this county. I had other sources, too.”

Andi rubbed the crease between her brows. “What you did was pick and choose. You didn’t include my comments on how well the people in Tall Pines support their neighbors, how lucky we are to have a close-knit community, how the incidents of abuse have been in a steady decline over the past five years, or how the previous sheriff contributed to that with his own programs. You didn’t even compare our statistics to rates in larger cities. So what you did report made it sound like we were this cute little town with a big problem, and that I was convinced I could ride to the rescue.” She picked up her fork and shuffled lettuce around on her plate. “And maybe I even believed the last part, but I would never have said it.”

When Mark didn’t answer, Andi chanced a look up and saw that he’d braced both elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. Telling him the rest was easier that way. “People stopped me in the street to tell me just what they thought of my point of view and my taking credit. I got a few threats. And I’ve been...wading through public opinion since, doing my best to protect the people who elected me even though they don’t think much of me.”

His shoulders slumped. If she believed his face, he was surprised, miserable and maybe a little bit sick. “Sheriff, I had no idea. I just...I think I’ve spent so much time going after public figures that...” Mark wiped his mouth with his napkin. “How come no one in this town came after me, the new guy? You’re a native. Seems like they’d be ready to tar and feather me instead of you.”

Andi sighed. “That’s a long story.”

“One you sure don’t want to tell me because of how I’ll report it, right?” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry.”

She almost believed him. Instead of charming or teasing, his face was dead serious, the smile absent. “I just wish more journalists—” she shook her head “—no, more people, would stop to consider that there’s a lot more to truth than just the facts.”

He leaned forward again. “More to truth...” He looked like he wanted to understand but had no idea what she meant.

Andi wished she’d decided to have a microwave dinner. “Truth is...” She sat back. “In Mandarin, you’d say
shí huà
. The first character means real or solid and the second is more like talk or conversation or words. Mandarin’s an analytical language so you have to study the context, the order of the words, to understand the meaning.”

“So, you speak Mandarin.” He looked as if he didn’t really know what to do with that.

Andi got the same reaction from everyone in town anytime it came up. “I worked for the FBI translating, monitoring persons of interest.”

“In Chinese?”

“And Persian, although I read that better than I speak or hear it.” She felt like such an idiot for bringing it up. Possibly because he was looking at her as though she had two heads. “My point is this...in linguistics, you get a real good understanding of what words can do and what they can’t do. No matter that we’re both speaking English, truth means different things to you than it does to me. Because of context.”

Mark studied the ceiling while he thought about her answer. Finally he nodded. “I’ve got it...but to me, that’s semantics.”

Andi laughed. “Actually, that’s called pragmatics and it’s a case of six of one and a half a dozen of the other.”

Mark wrinkled his brow. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“It’s close. You think facts are truth.”

He shook his head. “Aren’t they?”

“Not always, no. Facts are black-and-white. Truth...it has more depth.”

“Are you actually speaking Mandarin now? Because I’m afraid the conversation has gotten away from me. And that never happens. I’m a writer. I live on words, you know?”

“It’s like...the facts might be that someone broke into the Country Kitchen. You can put in the time and the amount that was stolen. You might even be able to put in the name of the thief and a confession, but that’s not the truth of the story. Or not all of it anyway. You’d be missing the context. I want to know the why. And I can’t help but look for it. That makes me good at my job. I don’t think most reporters spend a lot of time thinking about that context.” Andi shook her head. “Just let me eat my salad in peace, please.”

He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’m not sure I agree, Sheriff, but I think I understand.” He shook his head. “What I don’t get is why in the world you’re still here. If you win this election, you’ve got two more years of the town’s scrutiny to look forward to. Why not head out for greener, more crime-ridden pastures? FBI experience would probably open most any door you wanted around here, wouldn’t it?”

Andi bit her lip as she tried to figure out a way to shunt him out of the Smokehouse. She’d get up herself but not without her cheesecake. “I can’t leave Tall Pines, not yet. My grandmother’s still...she needs me.” Two years ago, when she’d heard about her grandmother’s fall, Andi was frantic to get home. Her career hadn’t meant much then. Gram wouldn’t move to Atlanta, so Andi had to make her way in Tall Pines. Unfortunately, that meant old history, elections and politics.

Mark wadded up his napkin as Sarah returned to take his empty plate. He smiled up at her, then smiled at Andi. “You’re ready for your dessert now.”

Andi had cleared a bald spot in the middle of the forest of her salad. He was right. She was ready for her reward.

Before Andi could give Sarah her usual order, he said, “She’ll have her usual and I’ll have what she’s having.” Sarah smiled and marched back to the kitchen. Mark and Andi both watched her go, then Mark turned back to look at Andi. “I do appreciate your jealousy but I’m not sure you know what you’re talking about. She seems fine to me.”

Andi pointed to the table with a single twentysomething man near the window. “I think she’s got someone else to attract at this point.”

He heaved a troubled sigh. “Well, all right. At least I’ve still got you.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, but he didn’t say another thing about jealousy. “I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about your FBI experience. The first thing some people did when I moved to town is trot over to tell me all about Tall Pines’s most famous citizen.”

Andi was ready to blast out a defense. Her father had quit his job at the radio station, divorced her mother and left town to pursue his dream. He’d landed in Nashville where he hosted a popular country music talk show, and every Christmas he sent her a card with a check. Until she was eighteen, she’d lived with the morbid curiosity and sometimes pity of the people in town who knew he hardly called and never visited his daughter. She didn’t want to talk about her father, either his successes or his monumental failure.

Sometimes she had to face the bitter truth that she could place a big part of her drive to be the best and build a successful law-enforcement career at her father’s feet. She was determined to prove herself better than him, better than anyone who’d pursue their own selfish goals like that, through serving the public and excelling at all she did. But now was not the time to get into that.

Mark held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “But I don’t want to talk about that. It’s nice to know more about you. Why don’t you ask me whatever burning questions you have? You might start to see me for the fine, upstanding citizen I really am. Then maybe we could work together.”