Mariah Stewart - Cry Mercy

Before Emme could reply, Susanna went on. “Well, I guess we are, in a way. I think that's what happens when your offices are in someone's home.”

“Is Trula the cook?”

“The cook, the housekeeper, and all around slave driver. Trula was a very dear friend of Robert's grandmother. She's sort of a family legacy. She'd lived with old Mrs. Magellan, and came to live with Robert when his gran died.” Susanna lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She runs the house, watches over Robert and Kevin like a hawk. Kevin is Father Burch, Robert's cousin. Trula loves them both as she'd love her own, if she had her own. Which she doesn't. Actually, she doesn't have any family at all, except for the two of them.”

“It's nice of Mr. Magellan to let her stay here,” Emme said.

“Ha!” Susanna snorted. “As if he had a choice. He went to close up his grandmother's house after she died and came back with Trula.”

“Still, it's nice of him.”

“I'm kidding. Of course it's nice of him, but he adores her. They squabble and pick at each other, but they love each other fiercely.” Susanna held up a hand to push open the kitchen door. “All of which is probably too much information for someone who has just had her first interview.

“So let's see what we've got going on in the kitchen.” Susanna gave the door a shove and called, “Trula, what deliciousness are you cooking up in here?”

So Mal, what did you think?” Susanna squeezed in next to Mallory on the banquette in the blue and yellow kitchen.

The Magellan home may have been a mansion, but where Trula ruled, warmth was in abundance. She'd had the large, L-shaped benches built and deep cushions made to match the curtains. The cozy corner had quickly become the favored spot in the house for meetings.

“What did I think about what?” Mallory replied absently.

“The price of gas.” Susanna rolled her eyes. “Emme Caldwell. What did you think of her?”

“I think she very well may be as good as her former boss says she is,” Mallory told her.

“So do we have a hire?” Robert sat across the large square table from them.

“I don't know.”

“Is there a problem with her?” Robert asked.

“I don't know. I just feel that something is off somewhere. She's almost too good to be true.”

“Something about her you didn't like?” Robert pressed her.

“I liked her well enough,” Mallory conceded.

“I liked her, too.” Trula placed a square plate of cookies in the middle of the table. “Not that anyone cares what I think.”

“Not true,” Mallory protested. “Of course we all care what you think.” She picked up one of the cookies and licked the pink frosting. “Are you going to tell us what you liked about her?”

“I liked the way she was with that girl of hers. Came in here to get her, didn't rush the child as if what she was doing wasn't important, the way some folks do to their kids. Listened to what the girl had to say, spoke thoughtfully to her. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they speak to their kids. I like adults who treat children with respect.” Trula added a stack of napkins to the table. “And I liked that when she speaks to you, she looks you dead in the eye. ′Course I know that doesn't mean she's a good investigator, but we're talking about liking her.” Trula smiled at Mallory. “I liked her.”

“You're not fooling anyone. You just liked having a little girl in the kitchen with you,” Mallory teased.

“That goes without saying.” Still smiling, Trula began to pass around mugs for coffee. She'd been collecting for years and had just received several new ones she'd ordered online. While they each had their favorites, no one ever knew which one they'd end up with if Trula was passing them out.

“Hey, how come I got the one that says He who dies with the most stuff is still dead?” Mallory held up her mug.

“Don't complain. She gave me Sleeps with Dogs,” Susanna said, twirling hers around her index finger. “What's yours say, Robert?”

He picked up the mug, held it up for her to see. “I am the Gatekeeper.”

“Oooh, Ghostbusters.” Mallory's eyes lit up. “Want to trade?”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Trula set the coffeepot on the table and looked from one to the other. “Who cares what your mug says?”

“You obviously do, Trula, because you keep buying them,” Susanna pointed out.

Kevin came in through the back door. “Did I miss anything?”

“You missed the children fighting over who got what mug,” Trula said dryly.

“Which one did you get?” the priest asked his cousin.

“Don't start it up again,” Trula warned. “Just sit down and get on with business.”

She poured coffee all around while Kevin hung up his jacket. When he came to the table, she handed him a mug. He raised it to read the saying on it, smiled smugly, and sat next to his cousin.

“Okay, what's it say?” Robert asked.

Kevin held up the mug. I see dumb people .

“Trula always did like you best,” Robert grumbled.

“Doesn't everyone?” Kevin grinned. “So, where were we before I interrupted?”

“We were discussing the candidate Mallory interviewed today.” Susanna filled him in while he helped himself to a cookie.

“Good, bad, indifferent?” Kevin added sugar to his mug.

“She's good,” Mallory replied thoughtfully. “Better than good.”

“Availability?” Kevin tasted the coffee before adding cream.

“Immediate,” Mal told him.

“Don't we need someone immediately?”

Mallory nodded. “If not sooner.”

“So what's the problem?”

Mallory ticked off each of Emme's moves on her fingers.

“She saw the press conference on TV, went directly to the website, filled out the application, went in to work the next day-she was a cop in California-quit her job, packed her car, and drove east.” She added with emphasis, “With her four-year-old daughter.”

“She's enthusiastic about the foundation-that's good, right?”

“Kev, Mal thinks it means something is not right,” Susanna said. “That she just up and quit her job and drove out here, expecting to be hired.”

“I'm sure you asked her why. What reason did she give?” Kevin asked.

“She said there was a lot of tension between the Mexican and the African-American communities, and since her daughter was half each-she's adopted-Emme thought it would be better if Chloe grew up in an environment that didn't make her take sides against either.”

“I think that's a very rational reason,” Robert said. “That makes total sense to me, that she'd want to keep her daughter from all that negativity.”

Susanna nodded. “Me, too.”

“Did she appear shady in some way? Inexperienced? Incompetent?” Kevin asked.

“Not at all,” Mallory admitted. “We even discussed one of the cases that had been submitted-strictly as a hypothetical, of course-and I have to admit she had some really impressive ideas about how to approach the investigation. I don't think she's afraid to think independently.”

“I'm assuming you checked her references?” Kevin asked.

“She's only worked with one department, and the chief of police gave her a glowing reference.”

“So she's an experienced, competent, well-qualified applicant with sterling references who can't wait to go to work for us.” Kevin nodded his head thoughtfully. “I can see where she'd seem like a risk, Mal.”

“When you put it like that, it does seem a bit silly.” Mallory sighed.

Kevin turned to Robert.

“What did you think of her?”

“I only saw her for a minute.” Robert shrugged. “She looked okay. Looked like a cop.”