He looked up through the top of his bifocals. “Hi, Walt.”
“What’s the number one selling hiking boot?”
“Here?” He thought. “Vasque, maybe Asolo.”
“Most popular size?”
“Nine, maybe ten.”
“Any way to track how many Vasques, size nines you’ve sold in the last year or so?”
He looked at me and sighed. “You’re lucky Sue’s here today. I don’t have time for…”
“Make time.” I looked at him for a moment to reinforce it.
“I can ask Sue to go back through the special orders and check the stock, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on names if I were you. If they paid cash…”
“I need you to do it now.”
He pulled a pen from behind his ear and tossed it on the counter in defeat. “All right.”
“One other question. Do you remember Jacob or George coming in to buy flies?”
He crossed his arms and exhaled a long, slow hiss. “Maybe a week and a half, two weeks ago?”
“Anybody else here when they were talking about where they were going?” It was a long shot, but I had to play it out.
He shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Will you think about it?”
“Sure.”
“I mean really think about it.”
“Sure.” Before I could get too far from the counter he said, “Nice clothes.”
I stopped and looked down at my fancy duds. “You help her with the sizes?”
“Did it all on her own.” He smiled. “Somethin’, huh?”
“Yep.” I continued to the door and rested my hand on the brass handle.
“You should be proud of yourself, she’s quite a catch.”
“Yep.” I pulled open the door and started out. “Call me.”
By the time I got back to the Bee, Lucian and Turk had vacated the place and nobody was visible, not even Dorothy. I went in and sat at the corner stool, next to the cash register. After a moment, a shadow cast across my plastic-covered, vinyl menu. “What are you having?”
“Anything but the usual.” I closed the menu in one hand and reached it over to her. “I want to apologize for being sharp with you yesterday.”
She took the menu and looked at my fingers. She had been talking to somebody because her next glance was up to my ear. “Feeling experimental, are we?” She reached down and threw two meat patties from a small Tupperware container onto the grill, then dropped a basket of hand-cut potatoes into the fryer. It appeared that hamburgers and french fries were not today’s usual. I asked her about Lucian and Turk. She raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re due a formal, verbal apology. Then I think the former, yet attending, sheriff intends to take a nap in the jail.” Her voice softened. “How’s the Bear?”
I looked up. “I bet he’s out of there by this afternoon.”
“Hard to keep a good man down.”
I reached up to feel my ear. “You have no idea…”
She slapped my hand away. “Stop that.” She turned back around and flipped the sizzling patties. “So, where are we on the case?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Inspector Lastrade…” And I did. I left out any suspicions I had about Jim Keller, but that was about all. I was looking defeat squarely in the face, and pretty soon the county would be crawling with DCI investigators and Feds. I honestly didn’t think they were going to get any further than I had. Nonetheless, I told her I was considering a career in telemarketing.
She filled a glass with ice and then with tea from a pitcher that sat on the cutting board. “You can make a lot of money.” She flipped a couple of slices of cheese onto the burgers, prepared the buns for reception on an oval-shaped plate, and pulled the fresh basket of fries from the deep fryer, hooking them on the rack to drip dry. My stomach gurgled in response to all the activity, and I was glad she had put on two cheeseburgers. “Okay, unlucky at cards…”
I took a long sip of the tea. “Don’t even ask.”
She scooped up the patties, scooting them expertly onto the bun beds, and covered the rest of the plate with french fries. “That bad?” She slid the dish in front of me. “Careful, hot.”
“You know, I used to think I was pretty good at this relationship stuff…”
She wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, Walter.” She shook her head. “You know she’s had a rough life.”
“Yep, I know. She’s having a rough time buying the White Mountains in Arizona right now.” The food, as always, tasted marvelous. Maybe when I was unemployed, I could work part time for Dorothy. She was still looking at me, and I had the feeling I was going to have to go seek employment elsewhere. “What?”
“When her father killed himself ”-she had placed the pitcher on the counter, anticipating another fill-“there were some things going on out there.” The hazel eyes stayed steady under a salt-and-pepper lock.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “Just talk. I don’t think her marriage was very happy, either.” She looked down at my rapidly vanishing meal. “How’s the food?”
I stopped chewing long enough to reply, “Marry me?”
“That good, huh?”
I looked up to check, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The wind was still kicking up, so I figured the snowflakes that kept waltzing around my head must have just hitched a ride; their changing patterns reminded me of the mountain in an unsettling fashion. I thought about the visions I had been having and chalked them up to strain and just plain fatigue.
Turk was sitting in one of the reception chairs and stood when I came in. Ruby was seated at her desk with her lunch of a watercress sandwich on low-fat seven-grain bread, carrots, and a sliced apple unfolded before her, which looked fresh, healthy, and completely unappetizing. “What’s up?”
He glanced over at Ruby, who was watching him. “Could I speak with you, Sheriff?” His voice was still nasal with the muffling of the packing and bandages.
“Yeah, sure. You wanna talk in my office?” He nodded and followed me in. I sat at my desk and gestured for him to have a seat. He shook his head and continued standing. He looked like nine kinds of hell; the bruising around his eyes had spread as far back as his side-burns, and it hurt to look at him. “What can I do for you?”
“Uncle Lucian says this is a bad time to have this conversation with you, but I thought you ought to know about my intentions? I put my application in with the Highway Patrol.”
I had to laugh; I couldn’t even keep a hold of Turk. “Really?”
“Yes, sir.” He twitched his face to stop an itch I was sure he was going to have for a while. “Uncle Lucian said it might be for the best.”
I nodded and crossed my arms. “He’s a smart fella, that one-legged bandit uncle of yours.”
“Yes, sir.” He looked back up at me. “He also said that if I ever ran for sheriff, you’d just run against me, win and serve a half a term, and then step down, giving her two years to prove herself.”
“He’s right, I would.” Pretty soon I’d be running the place by myself. “He say anything else?”
I thought I saw just a glimmer of a smile at the corner of his mouth from underneath the droop of his mustache but, with the bandages, it was hard to tell. “He said that masturbation is a wonderful form of stress relief in the workplace and that the wildflowers are beautiful along I-80 in the spring.”
I stuck a peeling hand out to him. He looked at it, then to me. I’m sure we were a handsome pair, him with his nose and me with my hands and ear. “I won’t give you a bad letter of recommendation.”
He took my hand, hesitantly. “Thanks.”
I knew the colonel down in Cheyenne, and he owed me a few favors. “I’ll make some phone calls.”
He shook my hand a little more and then released it. “You really do want to get rid of me.”
“Let’s just say I think it might be a better fit.” I really did. The narrower limitations of vehicular law enforcement along with a more regimented style of department could be just what Turk needed. That or the colonel would never owe me another favor for as long as the state had paved roads.