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“—not what you’d expect. They—”
Not what I’d expect? Well, I couldn’t say I exactly expected a romantic triangle among Keefer, Brenda, and Wendy, but what else—?
“—already working there when she came from back east.”
Ack. I missed something. That’s what I got for trying to think, much less speak, while Penny was talking. And now she’d segued to Brenda and Wendy. Had I missed something vital?
“Couple real rocky summers and she told him he was making it worse, but if he’d listened to her, things would have been different—”
“Chester?” I doubted she’d confirm, but it was worth a try to attach proper names, especially with no idea of which she was telling him he was making things worse.
“—giving her all sorts of privileges. Then she got the whole thing as his nearest relation. Cut her to the quick.”
Left the ranch to Wendy. So that had to be Brenda cut to the quick, didn’t it? But how had Keefer felt?
“Might not know it now, but had flaming red hair and temper to match. My, oh my, the—”
A redhead’s complexion could have contributed to those wrinkles. Brenda for sure.
“—things she said. A lot of things said. Both sides. Can’t unhear those things. Ah—”
“Involving Keefer or—”
“Bye, now, Elizabeth. Well, hi there, Geneva.”
The salutations didn’t sound nearly as good on this side. Another customer had slid up behind me.
I did not fight the inevitable.
The frustration, however, left me primed for a fight when I walked outside and spotted the compact figure of Sergeant Wayne Shelton standing by the driver’s door of my SUV.
Apparently he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, either, because he said, “Stay out of this, Danniher.”
I didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Not a chance, Shelton.”
“Sergeant Shelton.”
“E.M. Danniher,” I countered.
He dropped that pissing match. I’d take that. I hadn’t won it, but I hadn’t lost, either.
“This is sheriff’s department business.”
“It’s KWMT-TV’s business to report on crimes and on the activities of the Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department. Not to mention the business — the obligation — of every citizen to further the cause of justice.”
“Further it? You obstruct it. You’re forever in the way.”
“Shall we list the instances when we brought you information to further your investigations or County Attorney Abbott’s prosecutions? Not to mention the times we brought you the culprit on a downright platter?”
“You? You—”
He clamped his mouth closed. I hadn’t said anything but the truth. We did further the cause of justice. At this moment, however, we — okay, I — might not be furthering the cause of keeping Wayne Shelton’s blood pressure out of the stratosphere. I didn’t mind elevating it now and then, but not to the point that he blew a gasket. But how to ease up without backing down?
“Never thought I’d miss Thurston Fine,” he rumbled.
“Never thought I’d miss Sheriff Widcuff.”
That exchange of insults — him saying he’d prefer our former anchor to me, me saying I’d prefer his former boss to him, with neither one of those individuals overly blessed with brains or ethics — put us back on our normal footing. If he blew a gasket now, it would be the result of decades of gasket-pressure-building. Not my doing.
