If you've read about me in Survival of the Fritters, you'll know why National Police Week (May 13 - 19 this year) can be difficult for me.
I'm not going to dwell on that, though. I'll let you catch glimpses of some of the police officers who are in my life now.
Retired police chief Tom Westhill is my father-in-law. He and I own Deputy Donut together. Because of our shared grief (but I promise not to wallow in that), we share a strong bond. Here he is in Goodbye Cruller World (coming out in September 2018):
Beside the space obviously reserved for a band, a break in the white drapes revealed glossy pine double doors. A squarish red glow lit the white drapes above the doors.
“Well,” my father-in-law grumbled, “I guess people will be able to see the exit sign after one of those candles on the tables tips over and the room fills with smoke.” We turned around. The exit sign above the door we’d used wasn’t clearly visible, either. We went out that way, into the service corridor. “There are lots of places to hide in that banquet hall,” Tom commented.
I laughed. “Who’s going to hide at a wedding reception?”
“The bride, if she’s smart. Or anyone who needs a nap.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
He held a hand over his heart. “A hopeless romantic. With the accent on ‘hopeless.’”
I laughed again. And then I sobered and asked him, “Do you know something about Roger?” Maybe when Tom was police chief, he had arrested or charged Roger. . . .
“The groom. Roger Banchen.”
“Nope. But I’ve seen grooms who’ve made me want to hide.”
Misty, one of my best friends since junior high, is a police officer. Here she is in Survival of the Fritters:
Misty twirled a pretzel on the tip of her index finger “Did you notice a change in Brent?”
“He was unusually businesslike, which wasn’t surprising, since he was on duty.”
“He worries me. He always seems to have a new, leggy, and beautiful girl on his arm, but he doesn’t seem happy.”
I leaned my head back on the soft headrest and gazed up at the sky, that dusky blue preceding twilight. “I’m sure he misses Alec and wonders what he could have done differently that night.” Just like I wondered what I could have done differently . . . Brent and Alec had been best friends as well as partners, first as patrolmen, and then as detectives.
“Have you talked to him recently?”
“Maybe I said ‘hi’ to him this evening.” Actually, I couldn’t remember saying anything. I’d stared back at him, and that was all.
“If you gave him any encouragement, he’d come running.”
I recrossed my ankles. Dep jumped off my lap. I immediately missed her warmth. “I admire him, but we’re just former friends who’ve drifted apart, and that’s fine with me. He’s too much like Alec, too likely to be hit by a bullet some dark and horrible night. If I ever fall for anyone again”—highly unlikely, considering the way I felt about Alec—“it will be a man with a nice, safe career, like a librarian.”
“Ever hear of protesting too much?”
“I’m just saying what I think.” I patted my lap. “Dep, come here. I’m getting cold.” Dep turned her back, sat in the grass, and stared toward my rosebushes.
“Brent’s the lead investigator in Georgia’s case. He’ll need to talk to you.”
“No problem. No matter how much I sound like one, I’m not a weak-kneed blob of jelly.”
“I wouldn’t know what one of those sounds like.”
“Police officers are supposed to know things like that.”
And then there's Detective Brent Fyne. I'm afraid I don't know what else to say about him besides what I said in the above conversation with Misty.
Note from Ginger: Cops & Doughnuts, a bakery in Clare, Michigan, was one of the prime inspirations for the Deputy Donut Mystery Series. Here I am at Cops & Doughnuts, posing as a criminal and eating one of their criminally delicious fudge-frosted donuts.
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