Part 11 (2/2)
”We figured anyone who goes to Alma's every morning must appreciate good food.”
Stella's mention of Alma's name caused the sheriff to clear his throat and stare uncomfortably at his shoes. ”Well, it ain't a fancy place, but the people are friendly. Food's basic but good, and you get a lot of it.”
”Yeah, it seems great,” Nick remarked. ”Hey, did you eat yet?”
”Nope, only just started to whet my whistle.” Mills held his beer aloft with a grin.
”Then come and join us. We only just ordered, and we've yet to whet our whistles.” Nick slid from his side of the booth and took a seat beside his wife.
”I don't want to intrude,” Mills said slowly. However, his body language made it clear that he was happy for the invitation.
”You're not,” Stella a.s.sured.
Mills slid into the spot recently vacated by Nick. ”Thanks. Oh, and don't worry about the beer. Might be in uniform, but I'm off-duty.”
”Whew! I know that's a load off my mind. The moment I saw you with that beer, I said to myself, 'Gee, I hope our law enforcement officers don't drink on the job.'”
Mills chuckled quietly and leaned across the table. ”Between you and me, Mrs. Buckley, you might be better off if a few of them did.”
As the trio laughed, the waitress returned with the Buckleys' beers.
”Oh, hey there, Suzanne,” Mills addressed the waitress. ”These folks are my guests tonight. Make sure everything goes on my tab, okay?”
”You got it,” Suzanne replied over the Buckleys' protests. ”Just promise me you won't chew their ears off or get too rowdy.”
Mills blushed crimson. ”Do my best.”
”You didn't have to do that,” Nick admonished.
”Yeah, I did. Least I can do for keeping you outta your home.”
”That's not your fault. It's police business.”
”I know. Can't help feeling kinda bad about it, though. I've been to Ray Johnson's camp before. Seen Sally Ann's with better furniture in them.”
”It's not that bad. Still better than trying to sleep in the car.”
”It would be better if we had our air mattress, though,” Stella added.
”Funny you said that, Mrs. Buckley. After we left Alma's this morning, I gave a call over to Clyde Perkins. You can get one at his store.”
”So, I finally get to meet this Clyde character. After everything I've heard, I feel as though I know him,” Nick commented. ”Where is Perkins, anyway?”
”Just down the street from here. Open 'til eight, so stop in after dinner.”
”We'll do that. Maybe they have a flashlight too.”
”What happened to your flashlight?”
”Long story,” Stella sighed.
”Oh. So, um, what did you want to ask me?”
”Huh?”
”When I was on my way over here, I overheard you saying you needed to ask me something.”
”Oh, I was wondering if you had any news on Weston.”
”As a matter of fact, I do.”
”Care to share with us?”
Mills drew a heavy sigh.
”Come on,” Stella urged. ”You know you can't keep it a secret from us; not in this town, anyway. If it doesn't wind up in tomorrow's paper, someone will eventually blab about it to us-it's inevitable.”
”I got the coroner's report,” Mills capitulated. ”Weston was shot three times in the chest with a .30-06 hunting rifle.”
”Does that mean you were right? That it was a hunting accident?”
Mills shook his head. ”He was shot from a range of approximately forty to fifty feet. I drew a circle with a fifty-foot radius around your well, and it didn't even come close to making it to the woods. Nope, wherever the shooter was standing, he-or she-had to have seen Weston.”
”So the shooter was standing somewhere in the yard or driveway.”
”Or inside the house. Part of that circle goes right through your kitchen.”
”Meaning that someone-someone who knew Weston would be working on our well-could have been inside the house, waiting. Waiting to kill him.”
”That's right.”
Stella envisioned a shadowy figure leaning out the kitchen window, hunting rifle c.o.c.ked and at the ready. ”Wait one minute; if someone shot him from inside, that means ... oh, no. Don't tell me.”
”Yup, it means that you probably won't be able to return to your house for quite a while.”
”Is that why you checked on the air mattress for us?”
”Nope, that was just me being neighborly. Didn't get the coroner's report until long after I checked into Perkins, but it is why I'm buying dinner,” he added with a quick grin.
”Three bullets at close range,” Nick thought aloud. ”No wonder there was so much blood.”
”Weston bled out, all right, but not all that red water you saw was blood.”
”What was it?”
”Neutrichrome red.”
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