usually try to discourage my customers, but in your case, the grocery store in town has air conditioning.”
Chapter Eighteen
That evening, I scooted into a chair being held for me by Adam Cole, Pecan Bayou’s newest district attorney. He brought me to Ben’s Bayou, a restaurant built over the water of Pecan Bayou. It was the most expensive restaurant in town, although by big city standards, it probably wasn’t all that unusual. In Pecan Bayou it was just nice to visit a restaurant that didn’t feature a drive-through.
We sat at a table on the patio, right next to the water. I noticed a lack of mosquitoes and wondered if there was a stealth bug zapper working overtime somewhere.
“I was really surprised you decided to come to dinner with me tonight,” he said.
He’d be surprised if he really knew why. “I figured you seemed like a nice guy, and well, I’m not getting any younger.” That didn’t come out right.
Adam Cole laughed and poured some white wine into my glass and then lifted his own for a toast. I quickly picked up my glass and clinked it to his.
“To new friends.”
“To new friends,” I repeated. I took a sip of my wine and looked out over the water. The sun would be setting in about an hour, and the heat was subsiding for the day. The cicadas chirped our dinner music along with the Willie Nelson ballad playing over the sound system.
“So how did you end up here in Pecan Bayou?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Pecan Bayou is a small town, and it seemed like a nice place to settle down. I’ve always wanted to work in Texas, probably because I read too many Louis L’Amour novels. Anyway, when an opening came up here, I put in for it.”
“I see. Well, we might be small, but we do have all kinds of crime.”
“I’ve noticed that. I’ve only been here a week and we already have a murder and police harassment charge.”
He brought it up. I didn’t even have to reach for it.
“I heard about the murder, but what about police harassment?”
“Oh, some old cop was caught planting evidence at a crime scene. The local paper even had a picture of it. That one will be pretty open and shut.”
I gulped my wine and then coughed.
“Are you all right?” he asked, getting up to pat me on the back.
“Yes,” I gasped. “I’m fine.” I pulled in a deep breath to continue the conversation. “You have a picture of the policeman actually holding evidence in his hand?”
“Well, no, you can’t see evidence, but it’s pretty clear what he’s doing there.”
This wasn’t going well at all. He had already tried and convicted my dad.
“It seems to me you would need a lot more to go on that just some stupid picture.”
Adam Cole leaned back in his chair and touched his fingertips together in front of him. “Betsy, you’ll have to forgive me, but I really don’t know all that much about you. What was it that you did for a living?”
“Uh, I’m a blogger.”
“You make money at that? Blogging, I mean?”
“Enough. I just think that Lieutenant Kelsey needs a fair shake in all this, you know.”
“I never said the officer’s name,” he said. “How would you know that? Is there something you haven’t been telling me?”
Busted.
“I uh, read the papers like everyone else.” I tried to make my light of my blunder.
“You said you hadn’t heard about the harassment case.”
“Excuse me?” A woman now stood next to our table holding on to a little girl who was wiggling to be free of her.
“Yes?” Adam turned.
“I couldn’t help noticing you sitting here. You’ll have to forgive me. My Daffodil here is going to be Miss Watermelon. Oops, that’s not right.” She placed her hand over her mouth and giggled, then began again. “Daffodil is going to be in the Miss Watermelon Pageant, and well, you are the judge …”
Adam registered a blank look as he tried to comprehend what she just said. “You must have me mistaken for …”
“Wait,” I interrupted.
Chapter Eighteen
That evening, I scooted into a chair being held for me by Adam Cole, Pecan Bayou’s newest district attorney. He brought me to Ben’s Bayou, a restaurant built over the water of Pecan Bayou. It was the most expensive restaurant in town, although by big city standards, it probably wasn’t all that unusual. In Pecan Bayou it was just nice to visit a restaurant that didn’t feature a drive-through.
We sat at a table on the patio, right next to the water. I noticed a lack of mosquitoes and wondered if there was a stealth bug zapper working overtime somewhere.
“I was really surprised you decided to come to dinner with me tonight,” he said.
He’d be surprised if he really knew why. “I figured you seemed like a nice guy, and well, I’m not getting any younger.” That didn’t come out right.
Adam Cole laughed and poured some white wine into my glass and then lifted his own for a toast. I quickly picked up my glass and clinked it to his.
“To new friends.”
“To new friends,” I repeated. I took a sip of my wine and looked out over the water. The sun would be setting in about an hour, and the heat was subsiding for the day. The cicadas chirped our dinner music along with the Willie Nelson ballad playing over the sound system.
“So how did you end up here in Pecan Bayou?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Pecan Bayou is a small town, and it seemed like a nice place to settle down. I’ve always wanted to work in Texas, probably because I read too many Louis L’Amour novels. Anyway, when an opening came up here, I put in for it.”
“I see. Well, we might be small, but we do have all kinds of crime.”
“I’ve noticed that. I’ve only been here a week and we already have a murder and police harassment charge.”
He brought it up. I didn’t even have to reach for it.
“I heard about the murder, but what about police harassment?”
“Oh, some old cop was caught planting evidence at a crime scene. The local paper even had a picture of it. That one will be pretty open and shut.”
I gulped my wine and then coughed.
“Are you all right?” he asked, getting up to pat me on the back.
“Yes,” I gasped. “I’m fine.” I pulled in a deep breath to continue the conversation. “You have a picture of the policeman actually holding evidence in his hand?”
“Well, no, you can’t see evidence, but it’s pretty clear what he’s doing there.”
This wasn’t going well at all. He had already tried and convicted my dad.
“It seems to me you would need a lot more to go on that just some stupid picture.”
Adam Cole leaned back in his chair and touched his fingertips together in front of him. “Betsy, you’ll have to forgive me, but I really don’t know all that much about you. What was it that you did for a living?”
“Uh, I’m a blogger.”
“You make money at that? Blogging, I mean?”
“Enough. I just think that Lieutenant Kelsey needs a fair shake in all this, you know.”
“I never said the officer’s name,” he said. “How would you know that? Is there something you haven’t been telling me?”
Busted.
“I uh, read the papers like everyone else.” I tried to make my light of my blunder.
“You said you hadn’t heard about the harassment case.”
“Excuse me?” A woman now stood next to our table holding on to a little girl who was wiggling to be free of her.
“Yes?” Adam turned.
“I couldn’t help noticing you sitting here. You’ll have to forgive me. My Daffodil here is going to be Miss Watermelon. Oops, that’s not right.” She placed her hand over her mouth and giggled, then began again. “Daffodil is going to be in the Miss Watermelon Pageant, and well, you are the judge …”
Adam registered a blank look as he tried to comprehend what she just said. “You must have me mistaken for …”
“Wait,” I interrupted.
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