Slow Hand Luke

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He took a thoughtful sip of coffee, saying nothing for a long uncomfortable moment. “Don’t believe I know what she told you.”

“I’m a cop, Chester. I know when someone’s evading me.”

“Respectin’ your aunt’s privacy is all I’m doin’.”

“Look, I know I haven’t been around and have no right to ask to be involved but—”

“Hold up there, missy. I never said that. I don’t feel that way neither.” Sighing, he pushed a hand through his thinning hair, so uneven he had to have cut it himself. “She’s been havin’ faintin’ spells lately.”

“Okay.” She put the ham in the pan to brown, and took her mug of coffee with her to the table so she could look Chester in the eyes. “And?”

“She won’t eat right.”

“You mean she’s not eating.”

His concerned expression got to her. “Your aunt, stubborn old mule that she is, won’t admit she’s got diabetes.”

“What?” Annie set down her mug before she dropped it. “But she’s got packages of cookies in the cupboard and homemade fudge in the fridge and—for crying out loud, she’s got more sweets in this house than anything else.”

“Yep. She’s got a sweet tooth all right.”

“But she knows she can’t have sugar, right? I mean, this is totally treatable.”

“She knows.”

“God, Chester.” Annie’s gaze jumped to the outdated, scarred cupboards. “Does she have a death wish or something?”

“Say what?”

Annie sighed heavily, staring at the uneven yellow linoleum. “Is it about money? This place needs so much—She sent me money, Chester. For tuition. For Christmas, for…”

She saw something move by the door. Luke stood there, about to enter the kitchen, the sympathetic look on his face more disturbing than if he’d accused her of being an uncaring selfish bitch.

“You listen here,” Chester said, his back to Luke. “Your aunt wanted you to have that money. It was important to her that you had a good education. Especially after your mother ran off like that, and then your father—”

“Do I smell something burning?” Luke asked, effectively stopping Chester.

“Uh, thanks, the ham.” Annie’s eyes met his gaze as she rose from the table. The ham wasn’t burning. He knew she was uncomfortable with him listening.

“I’ve got to make a phone call,” he announced, “and my cell battery is dead. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Use that one.” Chester pointed to the brown old-fashioned wall phone.

Annie saw the reluctance in Luke’s face. Obviously, he wanted privacy and she didn’t blame him. “There’s one in Aunt Marjorie’s bedroom. It’ll be quieter in there.”