Baby Shark by Robert Fate

Author:Robert Fate [Fate, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Hard-Boiled
ISBN: 9780977627691
Google: N3COHHPkDesC
Publisher: Capital Crime Press
Published: 2006-02-14T11:00:00+00:00

When I walked in, everyone looked up.

I didn’t appear out of place in cowboy boots, Levi’s, and a short, brown leather jacket. Though my fresh cotton shirt the color of jacaranda in bloom set me apart from the cowpokes in The Riverbank. My platinum blonde hair and fair features were differences, too. I’d done my eyes before I left home. I didn’t use lipstick. My hair wasn’t long enough to be a problem, and I carried my drivers’ license in my hip pocket. No purse.

All that I carried that wasn’t concealed was my cue case, and even my cue case concealed a couple of lethal items.

I went to a high chair, placed my case across the arms and opened it. I took out a cue, screwed it together, and stepped over to the empty table near the wall. No clicking balls, no conversation, just dead quiet while Baby Shark settled in to do business.

I turned to the room. All eyes were on me.

That included a toothless old man in overalls and long johns standing behind a cigar counter who squinted at me over his bifocals from between the cash register and a peanut machine; two middle-aged truckers in plaid shirts and blue jeans standing at the back table with their chins drooping; and Bear with two bikers who were both strangers to me.

I’d hoped that Blue Eyes or Mechanic would be there with Bear. No such luck.

My voice cut the silence. “I shoot pool for a living. Anyone here up for some nine-ball?”

“All right,” Bear said, appearing delighted to discover opportunity unfolding like free dessert before him.

Granddad sighed and put away his glasses. The truckers put their sticks on the table and picked up their jackets.

“You don’t gotta leave,” Granddad told them.

They mumbled something about picking up a load. My guess was they put me together with the bikers and smelled trouble. Smart guys. They didn’t as much as glance my way as they headed for the door.

That just left the old man as extra baggage. Unless it turned into a bikers come to Jesus meeting like Otis had suggested.

Bear ordered some beers for him and his friends and walked over to where I was racking the balls. His buddies put down their cues, lit up fresh butts, and settled into some chairs to watch the fun.

We heard the truckers start their big rig and pull away.

“Send Granddad to breakfast,” I said.

That one caught Bear off guard.

His sluggish brain adjusted and he said, “You heard’er, Granddad.”

“I ain’t hungry,” the old geezer said because he wasn’t even a little bit swift. A look from Bear changed his mind. “Okay. Okay. You buyin’?”

Bear grunted so Granddad cleaned out the register, put on a grungy felt hat, slipped on a ratty old coat the color of dried blood, and shuffled over with his shiny gums showing and his hand out.

“I’ll be down at the café. If you get more beers, leave the money on the counter,” he said and pocketed the wad of limp greenbacks Bear gave him.

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