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“Dal Blake.” Brad nodded. “He sure misses his old Lab. Hard thing, losing a pet.”
“It is,” Meadow agreed.
“You here to buy us all breakfast, on account of the great job we do?” Brad teased.
Gil chuckled. “Nope. It’s lunchtime, you reprobate, and we’re here on another matter.”
Brad’s face tautened. He glanced toward the last booth, where an unkempt light-haired man was lounging arrogantly, still in his apron. “He’s over there. My second cousin was the woman he assaulted. I hoped he’d never get out. But he got lucky on public defenders.”
“Some do,” Gil said nonchalantly. “See you later.”
“Keep safe.”
“You do the same.”
* * *
Meadow disliked Russell Harris on sight. He was the sort of man she’d seen far too often in lockup. He still had prison tattoos on both arms, and huge biceps. He was wearing a kerchief tied around his forehead.
“You wanted to talk to me?” he drawled, glaring at them. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not about to break the law. I don’t want to go back inside.”
If he was already on probation, Meadow thought, a bad check case would most likely send him straight back to prison. She hated the pleasure the thought gave her.
“We want to talk to you . . .” she began.
“I’ll talk to him,” Harris interrupted sarcastically. “I don’t answer to women for nothing!”
“No, you just hammer them into submission, don’t you, Mr. Harris?” she asked sweetly.
His body tautened.
“If you make one move toward her,” Gil said softly, his arm at an odd angle, “you’ll go back in stir by way of the emergency room. Care to look under the table?” he added.
Harris knew without looking that a .45 Colt was cocked and aimed at his belly. He sat back in the booth. “I didn’t pass no bad checks.”
Meadow pulled out two sheets of paper. She had to wait until her hands stopped shaking to put them on the table.
“The sheet on the left has your signature on a check from your employer. The sheet on the right has the forged name of the victim in a check forging case. The handwriting is the same. Yours.”
“I’m not going back!” Harris said, and jumped up.
Gil had him before he could run, spun him around, tossed him down like a feather, and cuffed him so quickly that Meadow was barely on her feet before the suspect was in custody.
She noticed then that the rescue party had gathered close by in case they were needed. She smiled at them. Nice to know that law enforcement had that sort of backup from other members of the community.
They smiled back and sat down.
“You can’t prove I did that.” Harris was raging all the way to the patrol car. “That paper don’t prove nothing!”
They ignored him. They stopped by the drive-in window to get burgers and fries and tell the boss that he was going to be short one employee for a while.
* * *
Russell Harris went into a holding cell to be processed. Meadow and Gil went back to the office with food.
The sheriff joined them for lunch.
“We should arrest cooks more often,” Jeff commented between bites of his burger and fries. “Especially at lunch time. I don’t guess the other suspect works at a restaurant?”
