Castleton Police Department

  Thursday

  10:23 a.m.

  Freddo's Food Truck

  Deputy Newsome, and detectives Mackey and Patterson stride down the sidewalk. Mackey's stomach growling has led the three law enforcement officials to the good-natured Spaniard's food truck for an early lunch.

  Freddo smiles widely as the trio approach, his eyes sparkling with inner joy. The smiling vendor uses a bright yellow towel to wipe down the ledge outside the serving window of his food truck.

  "Long time no see, Officer Patterson. Ah... Detective. I see," Freddo says as Octavia steps to the window. He leans onto the sill with a conspiratorial hitch of his left eyebrow. "Is that why you left Castleton? Or was it to get away from me?"

  "Hush up, Freddo!" Octavia says, swatting the street vendor's forearm. "You're always being so silly. I left because Vivian graduated from the academy. She was determined not to leave Castleton and I knew she wouldn't appreciate having her poor old mother hovering around. A transfer seemed like the right thing to do."

  "Not so old," Freddo says with a touch of freshness and lowered eyelids.

  Detective Patterson's mouth nearly snaps shut and her skin flushes. She looks around at the numerous offerings advertised on the food truck's menus. Dave stifles a laugh and moves forward. Leaning onto the far-left portion of the window ledge, Dave twists his mouth mischievously, side-eyeing Freddo. Freddo's eyes have not left Detective Patterson.

  "You awake, Freddo? Can we order or not?" Dave laughs.

  "Oh, yes. Sorry, senor Newsome. I mean, Deputy. What was it you wanted to eat today?" Freddo stammers, seemingly tripping over his own tongue.

  "You know what I like, Freddo. Extra curly fries. As usual."

  "Okay. Coming right up. And you, Detective Mackey? What will you have? A chili dog? Extra onions? I do not know anymore. You come and you go. You do not stop to talk to Freddo much."

  "Haha. Yes. A chili dog. Smother that bad boy with onions. I mean, really lay it on. No, make that two dogs and spread the onions between them."

  "Don't forget the mustard!" Dave interjects sarcastically. "Detective Mackey loves mustard on his chili dogs. He told me so once."

  "What?" James shouts, eyes going wide. "Where in the hell did you get the idea that I like mustard on my chili dogs, Dave? That's just sacrilege. No one puts mustard on a chili dog. You must have heard me wrong."

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  "Oh really? Then, what did you say? Eh, Mack?"

  "I have no idea. But I absolutely did not say I like mustard on my chili dogs," Detective Mackey smiles and points an accusatory finger at Freddo. "Freddo! Don't you dare put mustard on those dogs. I will never speak to you again!"

  It is Detective Patterson's turn to stifle a laugh. She lowers her head, shaking it from side to side and tucking in her bottom lip. Poor Freddo. To have to deal with these two on a regular basis.

  "Okay. No mustard. Got it. And you...Uh... Detective Patterson? Are you eating with us today?"

  "Um...What do you have that's low-sodium, Freddo? Any chicken? Um, yes. I see you added a chicken salad sandwich. I'll have one of those. And...A bag of sun chips. Plain. And a bottle of water."

  "Oh man. What is up with women these days?" Dave says, drawing a stern glance from Detective Patterson. "You know you're hungry, Octavia. If you're going to order food? Order food. Neither of us is going to judge you, detective. Plain chips, a chicken salad sandwich, and a water? That's like...Two-hundred calories? This is a food truck. This isn't the golden arches restaurant. Freddo's food is the best thing this side of Merrville County. Live a little."

  Octavia's mouth forms an unhappy pout. She glowers at Dave from the side of her vision. Dave loses his confident bravado. But only for a second. Standing erect, Dave folds both arms over his chest.

  "We don't eat light in this crew, Octavia. If you're gonna hang with us...You're gonna have to eat more than a wet chicken sandwich."

  Detective Mackey chuckles softly. Freddo turns away and begins assembling the previous two orders, struggling not to laugh.

  "No one would ever accuse you of eating light, Deputy Newsome!" Octavia snaps, half-playfully and half not.

  "Huh?! Now where'd that come from? I'm just being friendly. No need to be..."

  "I was...Kidding, Dave," Octavia responds in a singsong voice. "Okay, Freddo. Give me a chicken fajita wrap with extra sauteed peppers and onions. And some curly fries. With a Dr. Pepper. Large. Happy now, Dave?"

  "Hmmm," Dave mumbles, his mouth twisted to one side.

  "I'm sorry," Octavia huffs. "I thought you could take a joke. I'll be more...Sensitive of your feelings in the future, Deputy Newsome.

  "Hmmm," Dave repeats.

  The sullen deputy is unwilling to let the woman detective get off so easily for insulting him. A man has to be firm. Or something like that.

  Fifteen minutes later, the trio are crossing the parking lot with their food. Dave stops when he catches sight of Detective Patterson's Cherry-red 1976 Buick Skylark.

  "Whoa. Whoa. Wait a damn minute!" Dave hollers, pointing a finger at the beautiful antique muscle car. "You got the Fell's Springs Police Department to issue you...That?! Since when?"

  "No one issued me anything, Deputy Newsome. When I became detective in Fell's Springs, I refused a department assigned vehicle. The department really couldn't afford it. And no one can tell me where I can or can't drive it. As long as my equipment and my cameras are running before I perform official duties...It's all good."

  "May I ask how much you paid for that thing? It looks almost brand new," Dave gushes.

  Octavia leans close and lightly pats Dave's right cheek. She includes a sarcastic forced smile for added insult, her voice a soft whisper.

  "Nothing. I got it in the divorce. Jack was a cheating son of a bitch. All I had to do was prove it."

  Straightening up, Detective Patterson follows Detective Mackey to his Crown Victoria. Dave walks slightly behind the two detectives, dumbfounded for the third or fourth time that day. What is up with this Patterson woman? Is it that time of the month? Or does she just hate men?

  Maybe both.