Blood in Tavasci Marsh by Lakota Grace

Author:Lakota Grace [Grace, Lakota]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Southwest Mystery Press
Published: 2017-09-19T22:00:00+00:00

***

THE NEXT MORNING I picked up Shepherd before sunrise. He seemed in a chipper mood and suggested we stop by the Flat Iron café for some breakfast before work. We parked the sheriff department SUV out front, nice and conspicuous, to slow down the early morning speeders.

The shopkeeper held open the door for us. Two sides of the triangle-shaped room were windowed and a small mini-kitchen took up the third wall, so we had to forego our preferred back-to-the-wall seating arrangement.

Shepherd tried some of the gluten-free, multigrain waffles with real maple syrup. The owner even found some green tea bags, which pleased my partner. I settled for a chocolate-chip muffin, king-sized. Did I mention the coffee? Its aroma steamed the entire three-hundred-eighty-foot café. No wonder Shepherd liked this place. I was beginning to, as well.

Around bites of muffin, I told him about my conversation with Sally Ann.

“How much did she hit you up for?”

“Twenty.”

“You got robbed. She’ll talk for ten.”

Great. Now I couldn’t even pay the town snitch the right amount. “You know everybody in town, Shepherd?”

“Just about. Wait thirty years and you will, too.”

Not likely you’d still find me here then. On the other hand, Shepherd had found enough of interest to stay. Looking that far into the future gave me a headache.

He finished the waffle, gave a satisfied belch. “Ah, that was good.”

The café manager went to sweep the front step and Shepherd and I turned to the business of murder.

“I can't help thinking that Lucas’s death ties into all of this,” I said. “What do you remember about that explosion at the still?”

Shepherd sipped his tea thoughtfully. “I was the officer in charge, met the ambulance at the hospital. I heard Lucas breathe those raspy breaths. Lungs gone, the guy didn't have a chance.” Shepherd twisted in his seat, uncomfortable at the memories. “Lucas asked me to tell Ethan goodbye. Not his daddy or his momma, just Ethan.”

“That moonshine business tore the family apart.”

Shepherd nodded. “The Nettles started out farming—sold honey, ran some milk cows, grew hay for sale, that sort of thing. But it was that whiskey business brought in the cash to support the family during the hard times. Law in these parts kept a blind eye, mostly.” Shepherd stretched his stiff leg, easing the pain. “And times change. Now wineries cover those hills, all operating legally.”

My coffee was cold and I helped myself to fresh from the pot on the counter.

“I'll dig out my notes on the case for you if you’re interested,” Shepherd said. “Couldn’t hurt to give it another look.”

He grabbed the breakfast receipt and I let him. Supervising partners get paid more than rookies. I put an extra bill under my coffee cup and we waved to the restaurant owner as we walked out to the SUV.

Later that morning, I called Janny Nettle and set up a meeting with us at our office the next day. Following my resolve to get along better with my partner, I even reviewed our interview strategies with him.

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