“We all know that couldn’t be true,” I said to reassure her, even though he was the most likely candidate. I scanned Sue’s outfit-worn stretch pants, scoffed shoes, and not a bit of jewelry other than her wedding ring. If Dave stole the money, he wasn’t spending it on his wife.
Cora Mae’s theatrics and a lively song drew out a group of women. Kitty danced by, her seldom-combed-out curls formed into bouncing ringlets that reminded me of miniature slinkys.
“You help out at the credit union, right?” I had to roar over the music the DJ had cranked up several notches.
“Good thing I didn’t work yesterday.” She took a chug of beer, long and hard like she couldn’t face their problems. “I wouldn’t have been able to take it. You know, the guns and all.”
“What do you do at the credit union? I never saw you behind the counter.”
“I work in the office, doing whatever needs to be done. Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “Want another beer?”
“Sure.”
While I waited in the beer line, I thought about Dave and Sue. They’d had a shotgun wedding. Two teenagers having fun before realizing what work it could be. Three kids and fifteen years later, they were still together. Their dream, like every other parent’s around here, was a good college education for their offspring. A hundred thousand dollars certainly would go a long way.
As the path ahead of me cleared, I saw Tony and Lyla serving beer from the tapped keg. “What can I get you, Gertie?” Tony smiled. Lyla made some kind of eye motion that told me to play it cool. Don’t give her away.
“Two beers,” I replied.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tony said. “Or my wife is going to get suspicious.”
Lyla’s eyes narrowed. “Ohhh?” she said, making it the longest word I’ve ever heard. Later tonight I expected a phone call from the Trouble Busters’ one and only client. She’d fire us if we continued to lose Tony, or kept tripping over him while trailing him. I was embarrassed, but tried not to let it show.
Tony laughed easy. “Just kidding, Lyla. Gertie was out in the woods this morning. The game warden had her treed. I see he let you go.” Tony laughed again while he poured beer into a cup. “That Rolly sure takes his job serious.”
“He’s dangerous,” I said, paying Lyla for the beers and picking them up. “See ya.” At least I wouldn’t have to worry about surveillance for awhile. My target was planted with the beer.
When I turned away, I noticed Angie Gates sitting at a table close to the keg. She was alone.
“Glad you’re out of the hospital,” I said, stopping by to be polite. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good,” she said, but she had her mind on something else. Angie checked her watch like the exact time really mattered to her.
“Meeting someone?” I said.
“No. What makes you think that?”
I shrugged. “Guess I better deliver this beer before it warms up.”
Angie had already glanced away. I moved past, then stopped to watch her. She seemed fidgety-nervous and wary. Maybe the blow to her head accounted for the edginess.
The seat where I’d left Sue was empty. I sat down, put the beers on the table, and took a sip from one. Where was Sue? Cora Mae had coaxed quite a crowd onto the dance floor, making it impossible to find anyone in the mass of humanity.
We were supposed to be interrogating suspects. Instead, Cora Mae was working everyone up to the point of collapse. How could she get any pertinent robber information out on the floor? While my eyes roamed the room without spotting my other Trouble Buster partner, someone sat down next to me. “I hope this seat isn’t taken?” my man George said.
“Reserved for you.” I grinned and passed the other beer to him. “I even have a cold beer ready.”
“I like a woman who serves her man.” George took off his cowboy hat with the snake curled around the brim and set it on the table.
“Let’s not get carried away,” I answered.
George looked great. He didn’t have to wear oversized shirts to hide middle-aged flab, because he didn’t have any. He kept active by building things and tearing down other things, and he has a healthy interest in the world around him. While other men his age pound down six-packs of calories while watching sporting events on television, George maintains a scrappy, fit-and-trim physique.
I, on the other hand, could stand to lose a few before my relationship with George went any farther than holding hands. I set down the beer as a first start toward better health. Fewer sugar doughnuts, less beer, more exercise, I reminded myself.
It’s amazing what the possibility of romance can do to you. I’m self-conscious now in ways I never was before. George has been my friend for years, but until recently it never occurred to me to worry about my appearance.
“Want to go over to the church and see who’s winning at bingo?” George asked. I translated that to mean he wanted to spend a few minutes alone with me. A warm thrill ran through my body, tingling my spine, making me feel flushed. Any kind of alone time wasn’t easy to find ever since Grandma Johnson moved in.
We walked out to the edge of the parking lot where the lights didn’t dilute the night stars quite as much. The air was cool and crisp. With George by my side and the sound of the dance behind me, I could have remained there all night.
I followed the stars of the Big Dipper from the top of the handle to the bottom of the dipper. I silently apologized to Barney for holding hands with another man. Two years had passed since he died. Part of me felt I was moving ahead too soon. The other part thought it was way past time.
George squeezed my hand like he knew my thoughts.
Barney didn’t offer an answer to my dilemma.
Cora Mae popped out of a parked car, giggling and adjusting her clothing. She didn’t see us, which was fine with me. I wanted to criticize her for playing instead of working, but wasn’t I doing the exact same thing?
“I wish Cora Mae could find someone to make her happy,” I said, after my friend and her mystery man walked away, clenched tightly together.
“She looks pretty happy right this minute.”
We walked toward my truck, still holding hands. “What the…,” George stopped abruptly.
That’s when I saw the dark form on the ground behind my truck.
And it wasn’t moving
Chapter 8
PEOPLE DO STRANGE THINGS SOMETIMES. The chance of me committing a weird, unexplainable act has risen exponentially with the passage of time. That means the older I get, the more likely it is that I will establish my own set of rules. For example, I really don’t think I need a driver’s license to get in my truck and tool around. Someday a cop will bust me and I’ll pay the price, but the young whippersnapper police officer will let me off easy because of my age.
So why bother going to all the trouble of proving I can drive when I already know I can?
The reason I did what I did when George and I found the body was…well, I can’t explain it, because instinct took over. I wanted more than anything to sleep in my own bed tonight. So when I saw my Glock lying off to the side of the lifeless man, I knew what the term ‘smoking gun’ meant. My fingerprints would be all over the weapon. Dickey would arrest me and throw away the key. I’d eat bread and gruel for the rest of my life.
So…while George checked the man for a pulse, I pocketed the Glock. George bent close to the man’s body. “He’s dead,” George said, confirming my fear. Now what? Once I stopped to think about disposing of a murder weapon after the fact, I realized that removing it from the crime scene isn’t that easy.
I couldn’t throw the gun in the woods. I was pretty sure even a ninny like Dickey would check the surrounding area. The garbage can wouldn’t work either for the same reason. I couldn’t put it back in my truck for the same reason.