Page 3 of Breaking All The Rules
And waffle cones.
She barely noticed the way everyone in the half-full diner stopped what they were doing to stare or the sudden cessation of all chatter. She didn’t care about the eyes on her slippers or her hair—Bea only had eyes for the array of sweet, sugary goodness at her disposal.
“Can I help you, doll?”
Bea dragged her gaze off the impressive selection of plump-looking pies to an older woman with a lined face; graying hair; gnarled, arthritic fingers; and a crackly, sandpaper voice.
“You’re Annie,” Bea said.
Prior to this moment, Bea hadn’t had a clue whether there was an actual, real Annie or not, but one look at this woman and it was obvious from her sheer presence that Bea was standing before the foremost authority on pies in the county.
Annie beamed. “Yep, that’s me.”
There was pride in those words. And a whole lot of care, too, and Bea felt ridiculously like bursting into tears. “I need sugar.”
Those old eyes smiled at her, flashing both understanding and delight. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, hon. Why don’t you take a menu and a seat over there?” She tipped her chin at the tables over Bea’s shoulder. “I’ll come serve you.”
Bea shook her head, aware suddenly of the silence all around her and the attention of who knew how many pairs of eyes. She wasn’t ready for that kind of scrutiny just yet. Not until after season fifteen, episode twenty, anyway.
“I’d like to take it to-go, please.” She shoved her hands in the front pockets of her hoodie. “If that’s okay?”
“Sure is,” Annie said. “Tastes the same at home as it does here. Now”—she picked up an old-fashioned china cake spade—“what’s your poison?”
CHAPTER TWO
Austin Cooper was in the middle of a vehicle check that the chief had asked him to run when the phone at the front desk rang.
Despite having grown up in Credence, Austin was the newest and youngest member of the town’s police department. He’d been back home for six months now, after five years in the city, and he fucking loved it. Even though everyone still treated him like he was wet behind the ears. He might be the youngest cop here, but at twenty-five, he was no kid.
Austin was vaguely aware of the continued ringing of the phone as he copied down more information from the monitor.
“Answer the goddamn phone, Cooper,” Arlo grouched through the open door of his office.
The chief was in a bad mood. Full moons always put Arlo Pike in a bad mood and his spidey senses on high alert, owing to the uptick in idiotic deeds around town. A full moon affecting people’s behavior might not be sound scientific fact, but Austin had witnessed it too often to doubt it.
One day, no matter how long it took, Austin was going to become chief. He liked small-town life and community policing, and he loved the people of Credence despite their quirks, which drove him up the wall half the time but ensured there was never a dull moment.
In the meantime, however, it was his job to answer the goddamn phone.
Austin picked it up, still jotting down information from the screen as he said, “Good morning, Credence Police Department. Officer Cooper speaking.”
“Yes…good morning, young man. I’d like to make an anonymous report, please.”
Austin grinned as Eadie Hutchens’s firm, no-nonsense tone came down the line. Even if he hadn’t recognized her voice, he’d know it was her. She was the only person who regularly reported everything from a car she didn’t recognize to strange lights in the sky.
Always anonymously.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Everything okay?”
“Well, I don’t rightly know. I just thought you should know that there’s a…suspicious woman loitering outside Annie’s diner.”
Biting his lip not to laugh, Austin nodded seriously. “Suspicious, you say?”
Just last week, Eadie had called—anonymously, of course—requesting a welfare check on the woman who had moved in above Déjà Brew. There had been intense speculation about the newcomer who had drawn the blinds on arrival, and nobody had seen hide nor hair of her since. Some said she was disfigured, others said she was in the Witness Protection Program, and there’d even been speculation she was some kind of witch.
Eadie had been worried that the poor woman had actually passed away and was currently being eaten by her cats. Because apparently all women living by themselves and hiding away were “crazy cat ladies.” A quick check with Jenny Carter had confirmed that the woman was, in fact, alive. Jenny said she’d been hearing regular movement overhead, and the mysterious woman had arrived with no cats.
“Well,” Eadie continued, “she’s definitely a stranger. And I’m pretty sure she’s in her”—Eadie’s voice lowered to a whisper—“pajamas.”
