Kate & Blake vs The Ghost Town (Kate & Blake Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Dakota Kahn

Author:Dakota Kahn [Kahn, Dakota]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-19T00:00:00+00:00

At the sheriff station they certainly weren’t looking at me like that. Deputy Woody was at the front desk, looking a bit like the dog that ate the birthday cake. He gave me a pained smile when I came in, asked how I was, the whole nine yards.

“Did I get you in trouble?” I said, looking at the big man sitting behind the big desk.

“Naw, I got myself in trouble. I should have been there watching out for you. It’s not like somebody was going to be able to sneak up on the road without me hearing them. And then I could’ve… well…”

“Stopped me from charging like a moron into highly collapsible buildings?” I said, grinning.

“That thing, yeah,” he said, laughing with me. Kind of a half-hearted laugh, I thought, but it was better than him being morose or self-pitying. “So, Kate Becker, prettiest lawyer detective in town, what can I do for you?”

“You can put Rip in an interrogation cell so I can ask him some questions,” I said.

The smile faltered a little.

“Ah, that. You see… maybe you didn’t hear but the words got out that Rip is the fella we’re holding,” he said.

“I heard. I want to talk with him—”

“But Sheriff Dulap, he said he wasn’t looking for no curiosity seekers, no lookie-loo types. Right? So… he said no visitors.”

Woody’s apology smile was no longer quite so ingratiating. In fact, from my vantage point I was starting to feel like he was the friendly face put on a very unfriendly policy, indeed. A policy of railroaded justice. Justice denied! We’re going to the Supreme Court on this one.

“Woody,” I said, trying to not sound like I was calling him an idiot while kinda calling him an idiot, “It is the right, sacred right of any prisoner held in this country,” I said waving one hand behind me so he knew the country was a great big place, with a lot of rules that I understood very well, being one of its lawyers, “to see their counsel and—”

“Uh, but that’s the thing, Miss Becker,” Woody said, and he kept his eyes down in a way that threatened to break through my sudden shield of righteousness. I was kicking a puppy here, but damn it…

“What’s the thing, Woody? That Sheriff Dulap and Detective Schwille and, hell, Mayor Reynolds,” I said, nodding to an audience who was not there but who would be hanging on my every word, “that these supposed public officials have decided scapegoating, and political expediency are more important than my client’s rights?”

“Actually, he ain’t your client,” Woody said, simply.

When I looked back on this, I knew I would deeply appreciate Woody not taking on the same tone of talking to a dummy I’d put on. He’s a sweet guy.

In the moment, all I could say was, “What?”

“Rip, he said he… he expressed an opinion about things, and then said he would be his own counsel.”

“Expressed an opinion about things?” I said.

A gloating, harpy voice floated in above my bewilderment and Woody’s shame-faced decency.

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