by the Town Council, which means I have to be unanimously chosen by all of the members.”
“Yes…and?”
“Well, I hurt a guy pretty bad before I left, and his father happens to be on the Town Council.”
“Uh oh.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “And you are a bit worried?”
“Well, yeah. They could be persuaded to vote for another person as Sheriff instead. Because of what I did.”
“Oh, okay. So, is there another candidate for the job?”
“Yes,” he said. “The guy I hurt pretty bad before I left.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I get it,” she said. “He may try to convince the others to vote for his son, especially since you just hurt his son. Also, of course there is the matter of your brother here, which you want to make sure is taken care of before you go home.”
They both resumed eating.
She paused. “So, you think that that Town Council member would have voted for you before you hurt his son? I’m confused.”
He laughed. “Yeah, it’s confusing as all hell. But, yes. He probably would have voted for me over his own son. That’s probably the reason his son and I got into it the other day.”
She nodded her head as if all was crystal clear, and then she finished her last bite and wiped her mouth. “Alright. So let’s figure this whole mess out soon so you can bring your brother home and go win your job.”
He liked this girl.
Chapter 21
Lia parked the Alfa Romeo right in front of the Albastru Pub, which sat in a piazza that looked otherwise restricted to vehicle traffic.
The pub had a large dark wooden sign with hand carved lettering above the front door, with a blue, yellow, and red square flag hanging from a pole above it. A single deciduous tree grew thick from a small brick square in front.
“Romanian.” Lia pointed at the sign as they got out, answering Wolf’s forthcoming question.
They entered the pub, Wolf noting the nautical-looking clock on the wall that said 2:10 pm. It looked like the bottom rung customers were there at the moment — a few older men slumping over a yellow beer or a brownish clear liquor in their squat glasses. Punk rock music Wolf didn’t recognize buzzed softly from out of the large wall mounted speakers. Two muted televisions showed the same channel, a sports highlight show.
No one was behind the bar, nor was there any indicator bell or anything to telegraph their entrance.
Lia took off her hat. “Buon giorno!”
A thin face with buggy cobalt eyes peaked around the corner from a surprisingly tall height — higher than Wolf’s eye line.
Almost imperceptibly, the eyes widened, then a stringy arm appeared holding up a finger, “Buon giorno! Un momento per favore,” the second half of the sentence retreating away from them. There was a fast clipped conversation just audible over the music somewhere in the back, a door closing, and then the man returned.
He was tall. What Wolf thought to be a man standing on a step stool and peaking around a corner was in fact a man that stood a few inches taller than Wolf’s six foot three height. His head was shaved on the sides all the way to the skin, with tapered ridged spiked on the very top with copious amounts of gel, giving the illusion of even more height. His ears protruded from the side of his head like two open car doors. He had a large nose, with a tight small mouth below it where white spittle had built up on the corners. A gold necklace jostled around his neck, well displayed on his bared chest above his mostly unbuttoned white silk shirt. He hurried over.
“Ciao, sono Cezar,” he extended a huge hand across the bar to Wolf.
A pattern of five dots in between his right forefinger and thumb caught Wolf’s eye as they shook, like a five on a dice. He’d seen the tattoo countless times. All on bad people.
Wolf shook. “Do you speak English?”
“Yes, I speak English, why?” The faint sound of a car engine fired up toward the
“Yes…and?”
“Well, I hurt a guy pretty bad before I left, and his father happens to be on the Town Council.”
“Uh oh.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “And you are a bit worried?”
“Well, yeah. They could be persuaded to vote for another person as Sheriff instead. Because of what I did.”
“Oh, okay. So, is there another candidate for the job?”
“Yes,” he said. “The guy I hurt pretty bad before I left.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I get it,” she said. “He may try to convince the others to vote for his son, especially since you just hurt his son. Also, of course there is the matter of your brother here, which you want to make sure is taken care of before you go home.”
They both resumed eating.
She paused. “So, you think that that Town Council member would have voted for you before you hurt his son? I’m confused.”
He laughed. “Yeah, it’s confusing as all hell. But, yes. He probably would have voted for me over his own son. That’s probably the reason his son and I got into it the other day.”
She nodded her head as if all was crystal clear, and then she finished her last bite and wiped her mouth. “Alright. So let’s figure this whole mess out soon so you can bring your brother home and go win your job.”
He liked this girl.
Chapter 21
Lia parked the Alfa Romeo right in front of the Albastru Pub, which sat in a piazza that looked otherwise restricted to vehicle traffic.
The pub had a large dark wooden sign with hand carved lettering above the front door, with a blue, yellow, and red square flag hanging from a pole above it. A single deciduous tree grew thick from a small brick square in front.
“Romanian.” Lia pointed at the sign as they got out, answering Wolf’s forthcoming question.
They entered the pub, Wolf noting the nautical-looking clock on the wall that said 2:10 pm. It looked like the bottom rung customers were there at the moment — a few older men slumping over a yellow beer or a brownish clear liquor in their squat glasses. Punk rock music Wolf didn’t recognize buzzed softly from out of the large wall mounted speakers. Two muted televisions showed the same channel, a sports highlight show.
No one was behind the bar, nor was there any indicator bell or anything to telegraph their entrance.
Lia took off her hat. “Buon giorno!”
A thin face with buggy cobalt eyes peaked around the corner from a surprisingly tall height — higher than Wolf’s eye line.
Almost imperceptibly, the eyes widened, then a stringy arm appeared holding up a finger, “Buon giorno! Un momento per favore,” the second half of the sentence retreating away from them. There was a fast clipped conversation just audible over the music somewhere in the back, a door closing, and then the man returned.
He was tall. What Wolf thought to be a man standing on a step stool and peaking around a corner was in fact a man that stood a few inches taller than Wolf’s six foot three height. His head was shaved on the sides all the way to the skin, with tapered ridged spiked on the very top with copious amounts of gel, giving the illusion of even more height. His ears protruded from the side of his head like two open car doors. He had a large nose, with a tight small mouth below it where white spittle had built up on the corners. A gold necklace jostled around his neck, well displayed on his bared chest above his mostly unbuttoned white silk shirt. He hurried over.
“Ciao, sono Cezar,” he extended a huge hand across the bar to Wolf.
A pattern of five dots in between his right forefinger and thumb caught Wolf’s eye as they shook, like a five on a dice. He’d seen the tattoo countless times. All on bad people.
Wolf shook. “Do you speak English?”
“Yes, I speak English, why?” The faint sound of a car engine fired up toward the
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