Never Name the Dead by D. M. Rowell

Author:D. M. Rowell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Twenty

Denny interrupted my thoughts of murder.

“I gotta eat something.”

How could he be hungry now? We needed to get a line on Georgie. But a glance convinced me that Denny did need food. His starved look reminded me that he became single-minded when hungry.

“Meers is coming up. I’m going to get a burger.” He looked at me and added, “Should I get a Meers Burger?”

I glanced out the window as we approached the century-old clapboard Meer’s diner. Grandpa had told us the single building was the whole town of Meers when he was young. It served as the only grocery store, trading post, gas station, restaurant, and post office for miles, in the days when a mile was hard to travel.

Meers had first been established as a mining town in 1901. The wood-plank building was now a tourist destination, as much for its relic form as its noted “Oklahoma’s Best Burgers.” The one-hundred percent Longhorn burger was nearly dinner-plate size and came with mustard, onions, tomatoes, and lettuce. Deemed the perfect burger, it was a must stop for all taking part in the annual Tour de Meers cycling event. As I looked around, seeing all the cars, it was clear it also had become a hot lunch spot.

Denny’s question really was, “Did I want to split a plate-sized Meers Burger?”

I shook my head and followed with “Naw, not for me.” My stomach was tied up in knots as I tried to figure out where Grandpa might be and why a man was killed. I wish I knew who had been the intended victim. I was sure that would point to the killer. Or at least the motive. Was the murder over water for fracking or about the peace medal? And Grandpa, where was he? I held on to the thought he was safe. I really had to.

Before I could ask, Denny stated, “Nothing on Georgie.” He turned a hopeful face to me. “But who knows, someone might know somethin’ at Meers.”

If there was news, Denny would get it. He was connected to the moccasin telegraph and tied to the farmers’ network. Those old boys saw lots from the fields and loved to gossip. Denny would work the locals for any sighting of Georgie. And I could use the time Denny was away to think. Things kept happening too fast. I needed a moment or two to myself. There was something, just on the edge of awareness. Something I was forgetting …

Denny left the truck idling and its AC on full blast while he went in to get his order. The truck’s converted engine purred on its clean-running propane. I enjoyed the cool air stream. All vents on the right side were strategically pointed at me. I was finally feeling cool, relaxing into the seat, when I saw it, a flash of blue in the very back of the parking lot. A bright blue car. I leaned forward in my seat. Could it be a Subaru?

It was.

I nearly howled Subarooo in delight.

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