Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

“I’ll bet.”
    “Which is still a problem,” Ruby picked up the baking sheet. “Anyway, the council hired Sheila. They told her to clean up the personnel problems and pull the department out of the nineteenth century. Make it modern and professional.”
    “Or rather,
some
members of the council did,” I corrected her. “It was a five-four vote—not exactly what you’d call an overwhelming mandate. Sheila would be the first to tell you that it hasn’t been easy. There’s been opposition from inside the department and from the council—as well as the usual community anger that’s directed at the chief whenever the police get out of line, which they do, from time to time.” I leaned against the counter. “Sheila isn’t crazy about the paperwork and she hates politics as much as McQuaid does. To tell the truth, I was hugely surprised when she kept her job as chief and Blackie quit his as sheriff. I fully expected it to go the other way.”
    Ramona shook her head. “It’s not a job I’d want,” she said thoughtfully. “Why does she do it?”
    “Because she believes in justice and in the law,” I said. “And she wants the law to be fair. To everybody. Not just people with money and influence.”
    “And because she’s a tough cookie,” Ruby added, putting the rolls into the oven.
    “So that’s the story,” Ramona said quietly. “Amazing.”
    Ruby laughed. “That’s just the first chapter. Stay tuned for further developments.” She checked the oven temperature and set the timer. “It’ll be about ten minutes. Who’s ready for wine?”
    We poured glasses of chilled white wine and adjourned to the back porch. “Well, Ramona?” Ruby asked, as we settled into our chairs. “Are you going to tell us what kind of business opportunity you intended to check out today? Before you went over to the Kirks’.”
    I sighed, thinking of Larry. He’d been a friend, a good and thoughtful person. I would miss him.
    Ramona propped her sneakers on the porch railing. “I wasn’t going to tell you until I knew something for sure. But I’ve been talking to your neighbor about maybe going into business with her.”
    “Our neighbor!” Ruby exclaimed, both gingery eyebrows going up. “Constance, maybe?” Constance Letterman owns the Craft Emporium, at the corner of Crockett and Guadalupe. “Or—”
    “Molly McGregor, at the Hobbit House.” Ramona looked from one of us to the other. “What do you think of the idea?”
    There was an awkward pause. Finally, I said, “Molly is a terrific gal, Ramona. And she’s done wonders with that children’s bookstore. The concept is good, and the location is—well, it’s right next door to us, so I think it’s just about perfect. But do you really think—”
    “That independent bookstores are going to survive—especially specialty bookstores?” Ramona finished my question. “I know the situation’s scary, China. Between ebooks and online etailers and the big chains, local shops are having a hard time everywhere. But one of my accounts at the advertising agency in Dallas was an independent bookstore, and the owner and I got to be good friends. I could believe in what she was doing, because she believed in it, too.” She made a face. “Which is more than I could say for most of my other accounts. So yes, I’d love to invest in the Hobbit House, if I can. If Molly wants me.”
    I looked at Ruby’s sister with a new respect, feeling that there might be more to her than I had given her credit for.
    Ruby sat forward in her chair, excited. “Gosh, Ramona, I think it’s a wonderful idea. And your advertising and marketing experience would be a real asset to Molly.”
    “You could be right,” Ramona said. “Anyway, I’ve stopped at the Hobbit House several times, just looking around. Yesterday, I mentioned my idea to Molly. She’s interested, so we’re getting together to talk about it.” She made a face. “Or rather, we planned to get together. After I found… well, you know. I had to cancel.”
    That sobered us. Ruby sighed. I stared into my wineglass, thinking of the emails that Larry and I had exchanged last week, planning another upgrade for the website. I loved his enthusiasm and appreciated his expertise. He was always upbeat and optimistic. If I were betting, I’d bet that he was
not
the kind of person who would do himself in.
    “Dana is going to take this very hard,” Ruby said sadly. “I feel so sorry for her.”
    “For
her
?”