Maybe I'll get to fire Lydia Larkin.
Lydia Larkin continued to stare, then shrugged and began filling her glass.
After it was repeated, Dean answered it to find Lydia Larkin.
The next stop on his list was visiting Ms. Lydia Larkin, deputy sheriff, whose presentation of a speeding ticket and general attitude still pissed him off, just remembering it.
Lydia lived in a newly constructed condo on Oak Street as it drifted out of the main body of town and became the back road to neighboring Ridgway, ten miles away.
Close on his heels was Lydia Larkin, tucking in her blouse and adjusting her skirt.
Lydia glanced up and down and then took Fitzgerald's face in her hands and kissed him full on the mouth—no glad-to-see-you-grandpa embrace.
He explained his aborted visit to Lydia Larkin and watching as she embraced her boss.
Deputy Sheriff Lydia Larkin drove by in her official white Blazer and Dean repressed the impulse to give her a one-finger salute.
He wondered if it was Lydia Larkin, the new deputy, hot on the trail of a speeder.
Lydia Larkin moved into the glow and stood silhouetted before him.
"Can you stand on your own here?" he asked, as Lydia remained pressed against him.
Lydia croaked in a panicked whisper.
Lydia called out to him as he moved away from her.
Instead of inching his way back to Lydia he remained by the wrecked Jeep.
Dean was seated on the step of a rescue vehicle when Lydia was pulled up to the road.
He turned to Lydia Larkin as one of the EMT personnel hurried over.
Lydia looked over at Dean.
Dean's Jeep was at the uphill end of the line of cluttered vehicles and Lydia Larkin was long gone by the time he was free to leave.
Lydia was not as tall as Jennifer Radisson, but only by an inch or two.
Lydia fell silent, eyes closed.
Lydia, you don't owe me a damn thing but some answers.
Lydia spoke in a whisper.
Dean could tell by the look on her face that Lydia wanted to forget about Billy Langstrom and the accident, but she answered.
Lydia thought a moment.
They were close to wrapping up the session when deputy Lydia Larkin moved quietly into the room.
Dean joined the applause while Lydia Larkin looked embarrassed.
Lydia Larkin moved a step forward.
But in Fitzgerald's defense, there were two pint bottles of vodka at Lydia Larkin's place, so he may have bought them for her.
Dean thought about Lydia Larkin, the new redhead in town.
"There's Lydia Larkin," Cynthia said, reluctance evident in her voice.
Ten minutes later, Lydia Larkin answered her door dressed in very tight and very small white shorts with a red elastic thing that covered only her breasts and nothing of the acres of skin in the middle.
Lydia simply gave a dismissive wave of her hand and went inside, leaving Dean to follow.
I saw you—when he left your place The fire in Lydia Larkin's eyes cooled appreciably.
He told Lydia about Fitzgerald buying the vodka on the morning of the Fourth of July, denying it, and saying at the debate that there was liquor in Billy's vehicle when he, Dean, felt there wasn't.
Lydia turned her back to him, and as she walked to her bedroom, pulled her scanty top off over her head.
Lydia Larkin thought the story was nonsense.
It was Lydia Larkin.
Something between this Lydia and Fitzgerald?
Lydia Larkin opened the door as soon as she spotted Dean.
Lydia walked away from him, down the path to the beginning of the trail that led back to an area known as the Big Blue Wilderness.
Lydia Larkin spun out of the meadow in a cloud of dust, leaving Dean to await its dissipation before following in his open vehicle.
But what Lydia suggested he was up to was the worst kind of criminal sexual harassment.
If he could only be sure it wasn't Lydia who'd chased Billy Langstrom down the mountain, siren screaming, to his rolling, crushing death.
He brought Cynthia up to speed on his meeting with Lydia after confirming there was no further word on Martha's disappearance.
It was Lydia Larkin.
Lydia Larkin had led Dean in with neither exchanging a word.
He looked around the corner to see if Lydia was listening.
"Don't say anything," Lydia said.
Lydia did all but ignore Cynthia who in turn was equally cool to the visitor.
"Lydia, I don't like this sneaking around business," Dean said.
Lydia just glanced at her blankly and turned her attention to Dean.
Lydia put her hand on his knee, as if Cynthia were not in the room.
Before she could say a word, Lydia too stood up and looked down on Cynthia, who was ten inches shorter.
So that's Miss Lydia Larkin.
Lydia, the long distance runner—now a smoker.