by E A Lake
“You can be so reckless,” Cyndi scolded. “I swear, if anything would have happened—”
“She was never in danger,” I replied. “I’d never harm your little girl, Cyndi. And you know that very well.”
She huffed and stormed away with the girl in tow. Apparently, I was the only one who saw the situation for what it was. Those two outlaws hoped to use the threat of harm to intimidate me into giving into them. Well, we all saw how that ended.
“Daddy,” a small voice said from beside me. I looked down to find Avellyn standing by my side, taking my hand in hers. “Momma’s having a problem with a new dog. She says you need to come ‘cuz you’re the best at handling the aggressive ones.”
I nodded at Art as the youngster and I headed away from the death scene.
“Duty calls,” I said to Art. “Two things: get those bodies out of view and get them buried. And second, get that gun of yours loaded.”
He opened his mouth, no doubt to whine about the gun. “Just do as I say, Art. I can’t always be the only one shooting. And it appears there’s going to be more shooting before we get this all sorted out with Tony Shaklin.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY
“I’ve told you this a dozen times, Chloe,” I said, rubbing the black lab’s cowl. “You have to be the alpha-male. You can’t be so darned sweet with new dogs, not at first at least. They have to know you’re in charge.”
She shook her head, shrugged and kicked at the dirt like she always did. “I just know that these strays have had a tough life. Someone has to give them love. Can’t blame me for that.”
Morgan, who had followed us to Chloe’s, wrapped an arm around the embarrassed woman.
“No one is blaming you for anything,” Morgan said sweetly. “And yes, these poor animals need love.”
“After,” I jumped in. “Only after they respect you. They’re just like children. If they don’t respect you, they’ll push you to your limits.”
“Don’t be mean, Quinn,” Morgan replied. Who, me? I wasn’t being mean, I was being honest. And now that I remembered my past, I could easily recall Chloe having the same problem multiple times before.
“I’m hungry,” I said. “I need a meal.”
“I can feed you,” Chloe offered. “I have something almost ready on the stove.”
I glanced at Morgan, wondering if any pangs of jealously hung between the three of us. She’d seemed fairly nonchalant about the discovery of Chloe and me being intimate that one time. But still, I knew what boiled just below her surface and it wasn’t always goodness and kindness.
“What do you think, dear?” I said to Morgan.
She answered without missing a beat. “I think that would be wonderful. I have a few more questions I’d like to talk to Chloe about anyway.”
Oh goodie, dinner was going to be a fun occasion.
Much to my surprise, much of the talk between Morgan and our hostess was benign. Mostly Morgan wanted to know all about Chloe’s life: where she’d been raised, what had brought her to Pimento, what her husband was like. The one that seemed odd to me was the question she asked as we were served dessert.
“So how come you come to Quinn when you have trouble with new dogs?” Morgan asked in fairly sincere tone. “As far as I can recall, he never had a dog.”
Chloe paused before she poured us each a cup of piping hot dark coffee. “He just seems to know how to handle them. I don’t know why, but he seems pretty good with them.”
“I can answer that,” I inserted. “I’ve had a lot of experience with being pushed around by people in my life. There was this kid in second grade who I swear thought I was his bitch. I never stood up to him. Then, there was Carla who walked all over me our whole marriage. And of course, my best bud Tony.
“What I learned through all of that is that the best way to handle a bully, or an unruly dog in this case…” I took another bite of pie and washed it down with a sip of coffee. Damn, Chloe was almost as good of a baker as Liv was. “What I learned is that the best way to handle these situations is to assume the role of the person in charge. That’s what I do as sheriff. That’s what I’m doing with Tony. It’s working.”
Morgan looked at me with pursed lips. “You were just too sweet to be pushy before. What changed?”
I thought about that for a moment, even though I knew the answer. “The arrival of the end of the previous world changed me a little. I mean, I think it’s changed all of us…well, maybe not Liv. But what caused the biggest change was when Carla left me for Shaklin. Something snapped; somewhere in my mind, I realized I’d allowed people to walk all over me for years. And I decided to make a change, for better or worse.”
“Is that why you can do what you do and it doesn’t seem to bother you?” Morgan asked. I knew what she meant. We all knew what she meant. “I mean, how did you get so good with a gun?”
“A lot of practice,” I replied. “Lots of practice.”
“Quinn,” she said after a pause. “You shot them both in the forehead. And the one man had Lucy between you and him. That’s almost cold-blooded.”
“First of all,” I replied,” Lucy was never in danger. Second, I was only 15 feet away from them. Even an average marksman could have hit them like I did.”
“And I suppose there’ll be more like them,” Chloe added sadly. “It seems like you’ve really gotten under the skin of this Shaklin fellow. He’s one mean man.”
That was true, what Chloe had said about Shaklin, but that wasn’t what he was always like. No, Tony was a schmoozer; he got things done because he knew how to manipulate people. Most of the time, back in the day before all of the current doom and gloom, he could have talked a homeless person out of their clothes or last bite of food.
But, and now that I thought about it, something didn’t make sense. Tony Shaklin never laid down for anything. The story about FDA coming to shut our business down had been true; however, he had a plan. Anytime there was a problem with anything in his life, he always had a backup plan, if not two or three.
“Quinn,” Morgan asked with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Tony only uses other people to do his dirty work,” I said, trying to make sense of the situation. “But he hasn’t really pressed it so far. The few people who’ve shown up have been mere bounty hunters. Well, maybe not the first two, but the second pair was. He didn’t send them, not directly. They were only here to get in his good graces; you know, get something from the king of the hill. The first guys even mentioned something about a side of beef. If he wanted to, he could send a large force to come here and take you back. But he hasn’t.”
Morgan and Chloe both shook their heads.
“I don’t see where you’re going with this,” Chloe replied.
I raised my left index finger towards the two. “Tony doesn’t take no for an answer. He never has. So why did he accept it when he and Carla showed up here last week? That’s not like him.”
“He’s probably thinking the judge will help change your mind,” Morgan said, nodding as she spoke. “Since you’re his oldest friend, I would think he doesn’t want to be directly involved with any violence against you. Doesn’t that make sense?”
No, none of it made sense. Tony only ever cared about Tony. I knew that about him as far back as the fifth grade. As long as he got what he wanted — as in always got what he wanted — the world was right as rain. The minute something or someone went against him, he made it his purpose in life to get even with the offender.
And as far as the judge was concerned, everyone knew I was going to ignore whatever crap Harry handed down. I knew it, Tony knew it, hell, even Harry knew it.
“I don’t think I know his angle right now,” I murmured, wondering if the ladies even heard me. “I’m not sure what he’s up to; not at all.” And to be honest, that bothered me.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE
The next morning was one of those beautiful early fall days that makes you glad to be alive; even in str
ange times. The sky was a sapphire blue with just a few wispy white clouds scattered here and there. The weather was warm enough that I didn’t need a jacket, but a long-sleeved shirt felt pretty good. The sunshine warmed my body and soul.
Art and Morgan joined me at the office as we waited for the arrival of the judge — my ex-father-in-law. I didn’t have a care in the world. I knew Harry and he knew me. We’d always gotten along just fine and that day would be no different.
Morgan and Art, however, were as nervous as a horse at the glue factory.
Morgan paced with her arms drawn tightly over her chest. She looked as though she might throw up at any moment. Her usual rosy cheeks were as white as the clouds outside. Art rocked back and forth in his chair, glancing at me occasionally with a tight face. They’d both met the judge before, so why they were nervous was beyond me.
Petri sauntered into the office and looked around. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve said he was a lost traveler.
“There’s a man here to see you, Sheriff,” he said. “I’ve got Cooley holding him outside. What do you want me to do with him?”
I sighed as my head fell forward. “Is it Judge Lampler?” He and his friend could be such idiots at times. They knew I was waiting on the judge.
He nodded as if he were surprised I could read his mind. Moron.
“Just let him in, damn it,” I moaned. “Let’s get this over with.”
He shrugged and cleared the way for Harry’s grand entrance, and the judge didn’t let me down.
“Miss Kessel,” he purred as he strolled in and took Morgan’s hand to kiss. “You are a vision of loveliness. I swear, though it’s been seven plus years since our last meeting, you get prettier every minute you grace the earth.”
Morgan blushed slightly, accepting the compliment with a grand smile. “I’m shocked you recognize me, Your Honor. It’s—”
“Harry,” he insisted with a predatory smile. He was quite a hound dog, always had been. “You must call me Harry.”
“Well, I’m honored you remember me, Harry,” Morgan replied, trying to remove her hand from his grip.
“Don’t get excited,” I warned. “He’s been primed. He knows all the players already.”
Harry ignored my comment and shifted his attention to my deputy. “Arthur,” he beamed. “It looks like you’ve lost a few pounds. How do you keep in such great shape during such difficult times?”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that one. Harry was so full of shit. On his best day, Art looked like a man waiting on death’s door. And today wasn’t one of his best days.
Harry and Art exchanged a hand shake and pleasantries for a brief moment before the judge turned his attention on me.
“Aren’t you going to stand and give me a hug, Quinn?” he said in an almost hurt tone. As if. “We are still family, you know. Once family, always family. That’s been the way I’ve always felt. I’ve always thought of you as a son—”
“That’s enough, Harry,” I said, rising and extending a hand. Of course, he grabbed the hand and pulled me in for a bear hug that lasted three times longer than needed. It was then that I noticed his toupée was on backwards. However, I decided not to needle him about it; we’d have plenty of other disagreements before he left.
“Well, you’ve done it now, boy,” Harry said in a disappointed fatherly tone. It made me wonder if I’d stolen his car and crashed it or something. Or, given the times we lived in, maybe it was his garish carriage that I’d damaged.
“Your rug’s on backwards, Your Honor.” In my defense, I’d managed to be pleasant 10 seconds longer than I’d planned.
“Same man, I see,” he scolded. “Always trying to divert attention somewhere other than what needs to be discussed. And we have plenty to discuss, Quinn. Plenty.”
I watched him sit, in my chair no less, and felt the air leave the room. Great, he was staying for a while. Just my luck.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO
I refused to bite on his leading comment and pulled up another chair right next to him. I wanted him to have to look me in the eyes when he lied and tried to deceive me.
“We can start off with the half dozen deaths that have occurred in Pimento the past few weeks,” he began. “Two yesterday as I understand it.”
God, I hated his exaggerations. “First of all, it’s only been four. And the two yesterday even took a hostage.”
He pulled a small brown notebook from his coat pocket and began to scribble on a blank page with a stubby pencil. Nodding like he might actually be listening, he cleared his throat.
“I’d like to interview the assailants,” he said judiciously. “You know, get their side of the story.”
I laughed, mostly because he knew better. “They’re dead, Harry. And you know that.”
He seemed to accept the fact that he already knew with dignity. Of course, he was just trying to piss me off before we got to the meat of the matter.
“Were you there, Miss Kessel?” he asked, leaning forward to make eye contact with her.
“Yes,” she replied quietly. “And they had a teenaged girl as a hostage.”
“And deadly force was the only possible way the sheriff could have dealt with the situation?” he asked further. “Is that how you saw it, Miss Kessel?”
“They had guns and a girl,” I admonished. “There was no other choice, Harry. It’s a scene that plays out everywhere. Someone wants something, someone else tells them no, and all of a sudden all hell breaks loose.”
He nodded and frowned. “Just two more bodies on the ever-growing list of people who’ve met their fate at your hand, I suppose. You have no remorse, of course.”
“The two before that acted like they were in the old west,” I added, a little too defensively. “And they were Shaklin’s men; Morgan even identified them. Both sets were set on killing me. Maybe you should be talking to Tony. Tell him to quit sending killers.”
“I see,” Harry mumbled, writing another note. “I see.”
“Why don’t you just get to the real reason you’re here, Harry,” I said. “Just get it out and I’ll tell you to get lost. Okay?”
He set his pencil down on the notebook and leaning back, shoving his hands in his pockets. Oh, it was going to be good.
“I received a note from Carla Ann last week stating that she needed to see me immediately,” he reported. “I was busy, but when a man’s daughter asks him for help, he drops all things. When I got there, she was hysterical.”
“Don’t you mean angry?” I asked sarcastically.
“She screamed at me for an hour, Quinn,” he sighed. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her that upset before.”
Screaming hysterics were Carla’s specialty and he’d been witness to them plenty of times. Like the time she got a car that had 243 miles on it and was upset it wasn’t “brand new”. Or when she got a dog that we had for all of 15 minutes and she found out that shed-less breeds still shed a little. Oh, that was an ugly time.
“What’d Tony have to say?” I asked.
Harry shrugged and looked away briefly. “Like he had a chance to get a word in. Carla did most of the talking. About all that Shaklin said was hello and goodbye.”
That was my ex, at her best no less.
Harry sighed and looked at me curiously. “Here’s the way it is, Quinn. They’re demanding I bring up charges of murder and theft against you.”
“They?” I countered with a grin.
“You know what I mean,” he huffed. “Unless we can work out some sort of deal, I’m going to have to ask for your gun and badge until this can go to trial. I’m sorry it has to come to this.”
Morgan gasped and Art nearly fell off his chair. I just shrugged and grinned. Sure, it was a tactic I hadn’t seen coming, but nothing he threatened was going to change anything. Even if I had to arrest the old coot myself.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE
“The first charge against you,” Harry began after studying his n
otes for a while, “is murder.”
Morgan shot up from her chair. “Quinn’s never killed anyone except in the line of duty from what I know.”
Harry looked at her sadly. “Does the name Ramos Stanlard ring a bell?”
“He was one of Shaklin’s thugs,” I replied casually, as though it didn’t bother me, which it didn’t. “He was going to rape Morgan and Charolette.”
Harry nodded as if he understood. But I knew better.
“I guess it will all come out at your trial then,” he replied, glancing back at his notes. “The second charge is five counts of theft.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure freeing slaves from bondage is theft. You gotta do better than that.”
“Were they yours?” he asked, sounding confused. “I believe they were being provided for by Tony Shaklin. They owe him a large debt.”
Morgan made a move as if she might say something, but I raised a hand and she sat back down.
“How do you figure they owe him anything?” I asked. “He lured them there with employment and then changed the rules and said they could never leave. Sounds to me like a bunch of people walking away from their jobs after getting their last paycheck.”
Harry became flushed and scowled at me. “He took care of these people in a world where they might have otherwise died, Quinn. He clothed them, fed them, provided them with shelter—”
“And they worked,” I interrupted.
“You’re missing the point, son. He provided for them 24/7. They always had food, clothing and shelter. In return, they were only required to work during mostly daylight hours, five days a week. They gave him at most 50 hours of service each week. He provided for them 168 hours each week. Even a fool can see where the math leads to.”
