Northern Lights

bar, smoking, and reading a tattered copy of Ulysses.
    At a far table a man with a brown beard that spilled onto the chest of his faded buffalo-check flannel shirt appeared to be holding an angry conversation with himself.
    Heads turned in their direction, and greetings were called out to Hopp as she tossed her hood back to reveal a springy mop of silver hair. Gazes locked onto Nate that ranged from curiosity and speculation to open hostility from the beard.
    "This here's Ignatious Burke, our new chief of police." Hopp announced this as she yanked down the zipper of her parka. "We got Dex Trilby and Hans Finkle there in the booth, and that's Bing Karlovski over there with the scowl on what you can see of his face. Rose Itu is waiting tables. How's that baby today, Rose?"
    "Restless. Welcome, Chief Burke."
    "Thanks."
    "This is The Professor." Hopp tapped Tweed Jacket on the shoulder as she crossed to the bar. "Anything different in that book since the last time you read it?"
    "Always something." He tipped down a pair of metal-framed reading glasses to get a better view of Nate. "Long trip."
    "It was," Nate agreed.
    "Not over yet." Shoving his glasses back into place, The Professor went back to his book.
    "And this handsome devil is Jesse, Rose's boy."
    The boy kept his head bent over his coloring book, but lifted his gaze so his big, dark eyes peered out under a thick fringe of black bangs. He reached out, tugged Hopp's parka so that she bent down to hear his whisper.
    "Don't you worry. We'll get him one."
    The door behind the bar swung open and a big, black truck in a big, white apron came out. "Big Mike," Hopp announced. "He's the cook. Was a Navy man until one of our local girls caught his eye when she was down in Kodiak."
    "Snared me like a trout," Big Mike said with a grin. "Welcome to Lunacy."
    "Thanks."
    "We're going to want something good and hot for our new chief of police."
    "Fish chowder's good today," Big Mike told her. "Ought to do the trick. Unless you'd rather bite into some red meat, chief."
    It took Nate a moment to identify himself as c hief. A moment when he felt every eye in the room focused on him. "Chowder's fine. Sounds good."
    "We'll have it right up for you then." He swung back into the kitchen, and Nate could hear his bone-deep baritone croon out on "Baby, It's Cold Outside."
    Stage set, postcard, he thought. Or a play. Anyway you sliced it, he felt like some sort of dusty prop.
    Hopp held up a finger to hold Nate in place before marching into the lobby. He watched her scoot around the counter and snag a key from one of the cubbies.
    As she did, the door behind the counter swung open. And the bombshell walked out.
    She was blonde—as Nate thought suited bombshells best—with the wavy mass of sunlight hair spilling down to brush very impressive breasts that were showcased by the low scoop of her snug, blue sweater. It took him a minute to get to the face as the sweater was tucked into jeans so tight they must have bruised several internal organs.
    Not that he was complaining.
    The face boasted bright blue eyes with an innocence in direct contrast with the plump, red lips. She was a little generous on the paint, and put him in mind of a Barbie doll.
    Man-killer Barbie.
    Despite the restriction of the outfit, everything that could jiggle did so as she strolled around the counter on skinny, backless heels, wiggled her way into the diner. And posed languidly against the bar.
    "Well, hello, handsome."
    Her voice was a throaty purr—she must've practiced it—designed to drain the blood out of a man's head and send his IQ plummeting to that of a green turnip.
    "Charlene, you behave." Hopp rattled the key. "This boy's tired and half sick. He doesn't have the reserves to deal with you right now. Chief Burke, Charlene Hidel. This is her place. Town budget's paying your room and board here as part of your pay, so don't feel obliged to offer anything out in trade."
    "Hopp, you're so bad." But Charlene smiled like a stroked kitten as she said it. "Why don't I just take you up, Chief Burke, get you all settled in? Then we'll bring you something hot to eat."
    "I'll take him up." Deliberately Hopp closed her fist around the key, letting the big black room number tag dangle. "Jerk's bringing in his gear. Wouldn't hurt to have Rose bring him the chowder Mike's dishing up for him though. Come on, Ignatious. You can socialize when you're not so ready to drop."
    He could've spoken for himself, but he didn't