Fugitive Filling by Jessica Beck Read Free Book Online

section yesterday afternoon when he confessed his undying love for Teresa to her while she was getting a salad from the bar there. She clearly thought he was joking at first, but when she saw that he was serious, she scolded him as though he were a little boy. I thought Bobby was going to explode on the spot, and he nearly knocked me down as he raced for the back door.”
    “No wonder. He had to have been humiliated,” Jake said.
    “I didn’t see any humiliation in him, only rage. To me, he looked as though he could have killed her on the spot.” Gabby let that thought hang in the air for a moment or two before she added, “If I were you, I’d speak with him, and soon, before he runs away from April Springs and no one ever sees him again.”
    “Do you happen to know where he lives?” I asked her.
    “It’s hard to miss. He’s staying in an old camper out behind St. Theresa’s right now. The land has been in his family for a long time, but from what I’ve heard, the new rector is none too happy with his living arrangements.”
    “Thanks, Gabby,” I said, and Jake offered her a smile. “We’ll look into it.”
    She looked pleased with herself as she said, “You’re most welcome.”

    Jake and I picked up my Jeep, which was still parked behind the donut shop, and as my husband and I headed for Bobby’s place, I asked him, “I’ve got to tell you, I’m really impressed. How did you manage that?”
    “Manage what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Come on, you know exactly what I’m referring to. You pulled that woman’s fangs without the least bit of effort on your part,” I said. “I thought Gabby was going to start purring there for a second.”
    “Suzanne, she was trying to bully us both, and the only way to deal with that kind of behavior is to walk right up and punch the bully in the nose.”
    “I thought you were actually going to do that for a second.”
    “I don’t mean it literally. She just needed a reminder that she wasn’t the top dog, and after I nipped a little at her, she fell right in line.”
    “Can you teach me how to do that?” I asked him. That could be the most useful skill I could ever master, given some of the folks I dealt with on occasion.
    “Sorry. It’s more of an inherent thing than one that can be taught,” he said with a laugh as I pulled up beside Bobby’s camper. No wonder the church wanted it to be relocated. It had to be at least forty years old, and it was a miracle that it had made the transition to its spot in the first place. At one point someone had clearly tried to spray-paint the old finish, but they hadn’t done a proper job of prepping the material first, and large curly flakes were now pulling away everywhere. Both tires of the trailer were low to the point of being flat, and an old bucket served as a step up into the RV. Just beside the trailer was a small portable greenhouse, and when I glanced in through the plastic shell, I saw three rose bushes thriving inside, grouped around a portable space heater and looking quite toasty despite the cold. Instead of grass or gravel inside, the bed of the greenhouse was made up of red clay dirt. It appeared that the grocery clerk was a bit of an amateur horticulturalist in his off hours. Near the edge of the woods well away from the trailer and the greenhouse, there was a beat-up old storage shed with a door that barely closed.
    “I don’t see any cars around,” Jake said as he looked around the property before we approached the front door.
    “From what I’ve heard, he’s got a car, but it doesn’t run most of the time. Maybe it’s in the shop again. All I know is that every time Bobby drives past the donut shop, he’s on his motorcycle. I don’t know why he doesn’t just get rid of his car altogether.”
    “I doubt a motorcycle would be much fun in the snow, but if his car is in the shop now, maybe he’s here after all. That shed looks big enough to hold a bike. Let’s see if