Mariah Stewart - Cry Mercy

She turned the mug around to see which of Trula's pithy sayings she'd gotten that morning. The truth is rarely pure and never simple .

Amen to that.

“I did.” Trula took a seat without waiting to be offered one. “So… I'm waiting.”

“For?…” Mallory took a bite of muffin and smiled. “Delicious. You could package these and sell them and make big bucks, Trula.”

“Don't change the subject. You know what for.”

“You don't take no for an answer very often, do you.” It wasn't a question.

“Not if I can help it.”

Mallory sighed, resigned.

“I got a call this morning from one of the applicants for the investigator job.”

“So? That's what you wanted. That's why we went through that whole press conference thing and did the website. What's the problem? Is the applicant unqualified?”

“No. She appears to be as qualified as most, I guess. Some may be better, some may be not as. Her qualifications aren't the problem.”

“So?”

“So she's in Conroy and she wants an interview.”

“Again,” Trula sighed, “I say, so?”

“So she was a cop in California. She applied online the day the application was posted, quit her job, packed it all up, drove east, and is counting on us hiring her.”

“Do I have to repeat myself a fourth time?”

“So who does that?” Mallory frowned. “Who quits their job and drives across the country, demands an interview for a job she may not get?”

“Asked or demanded?”

“Asked. But I had the feeling if I'd said no, she'd have begged until I said I'd see her.”

“When is she coming in?”

“This afternoon. I told her I could see her around two.”

“Doesn't give you much time to check her references.”

“I already did that. Actually, I do a preliminary check of the ones who look qualified as soon as I get the app. If I know up front that someone isn't going to be a contender, that's one less interview I have to arrange.”

“Did she check out?”

Robert wandered in and took the chair next to Trula's.

“Did who check out?” he asked.

Mallory filled him in on the conversation thus far.

“So did she?” Trula repeated.

“She did. Actually, her former boss gave her a glowing reference.” Mallory took a sip of coffee. “It was as if she couldn't say enough about her. I can't explain why, but it just sounded… I don't know, too pat or something.”

“Why's that?” asked Susanna, who'd been listening at the doorway.

“You're chief of police in a town not far from the Mexican border. One of your best officers quits the force with no notice-I mean, how much notice could she have given? The application just went online two weeks ago, and this woman is already here after having driven from California. And yet you still give her the highest possible recommendation? You never mention the fact that she left you high and dry and a man short?” Mallory shook her head. “Something about that just isn't sitting right with me.”

“So maybe after you talk to her, you'll have an idea why.” Robert stood and stretched. “I trust your instincts, Mal. It's up to you whether or not to hire her.”

“Well, I'd sure like to have an opportunity to interview some of the competition.”

“There isn't going to be a whole lot of time to deliberate. If it looks like she can't cut it, cross her off the list and go on to the next one. We're going to need staff pronto.”

“We're going to need the right staff,” Mallory reminded him. “You want the best person for the job, not just any investigator.”

“True enough. But you can't tell me that in that entire bunch of applicants you can't find someone who fits the bill who can start really soon. We set the first of the month as our deadline to kick off that first case, and the first is closing in on us very quickly,” he pointed out. “Kevin will be here late this afternoon and we'll be deciding which case gets the privilege of being number one.”

“I have it down to three,” Mallory told him. “The write-ups are on your desk.” She turned to Susanna. “Yours, too.”

“I already read through them. Interesting. A little something there for everyone,” Susanna remarked.

“How many submissions did we get?” Robert asked.

“Six hundred and twelve,” Mallory told him.

“How did you cut them down to three?”

“Wasn't easy.”

“I should go take a look.” Robert stood. “Did Kevin get copies, Mal?”

“I faxed them to the church office this morning.”

“Well, then, I'll leave this other thing-the possibly overzealous applicant-in your hands,” Robert said as he left the room.

Mallory turned to Susanna, who shrugged and said, “Like Robert said, it's up to you. But we will need to hire someone soon. Over six hundred submissions in two weeks? Craziness.” She followed Robert out the door.

Mallory turned to Trula.

“Don't look at me. I'm just the cook.”

“My ass.”

Smiling, Trula stood and picked up the crumpled napkin and the empty mug.

“Lunch is in thirty minutes.”

Emme stopped in front of the ornate iron gates that shut off Robert Magellan's estate from the rest of the world. She put the car in park and stared at the guard who was walking toward her.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked.

“Is this Robert Magellan's?…”

He nodded.

“I have an appointment with Mallory Russo.”

“Ms. Caldwell?”

It took a split second for her to realize he was addressing her . “Yes.”

“You're expected.” He smiled and returned to the small booth he'd been sitting in. “Go on through and follow the drive to the circle on the right. You can leave your car there. Someone will meet you at the door.”

“Thanks.”

More curious than ever, she drove through the opening gates.

“Mommy, is this a castle?” Chloe asked from the backseat. “Are we going to see a prince?”

“Sort of,” Emme mumbled and followed the guard's instructions to the front door.

“Who lives here, Mommy?”

“A very wealthy man who puts his money to good use to help people who have problems.”

“I have problems,” Chloe told her. “I don't have a school.”

“Not that kind of problem, sweetie.”

“What kind?”

“He helps to find people who are lost.”

“Do you think he could help me find Bobo?” One of Chloe's favorite stuffed animals had been inadvertently left behind when her mother had grabbed a few cherished items from Chloe's room.

“I think he only looks for people.”

“Bobo was people,” she heard Chloe whisper.

When they reached the circle, Emme parked and got out, and couldn't help but stare at the Tudor mansion that seemed to go on forever.

“I bet a princess lives here too.” Chloe unbuckled her seat belt and eagerly jumped from the car without waiting for assistance. “Will I get to see her?”

“There's no princess, sweetie,” her mother said as she took her hand. Together they started toward the front door.

It opened almost immediately. A woman of indeterminable age stood at the threshold. She was dressed in a denim skirt that had faded from too many washings, a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a bright red apron dotted with spots of flour here and there. White tennis sneakers worn without socks were on her feet, her white hair was wrapped into a bun at the nape of her neck, and her glasses sat upon the very end of her nose.

“Come in, Emme Caldwell.” She gestured with one hand. Seeing Chloe, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “And who might this be?”

“This is Chloe, my daughter.” Emme's words began to pour out in a rush. “I'm sorry, I know it's highly unusual to bring a child to an interview like this but we just arrived in town last night and I couldn't leave her in the hotel. I probably should have mentioned it when I spoke with Ms. Russo. I promise she won't be a bother to anyone. She's very well behaved. She has a coloring book and her crayons and she can sit on the floor outside the office while I meet with Ms. Russo.”