UnderCover by David R Lewis

Author:David R Lewis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, suspense, murder, ghost, mystery series, private investigation, police procedures
Publisher: David R Lewis

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Breakfast was over when the door to the deck slid open and Nudge ambled in. He was followed, almost immediately, by Stitch. Danni grinned as she watched him shuffle into the room, his hair loose, his posture somewhat twisted and bent.

“’Bout time you got here,” she said. “How ya doin’?”

Stitch walked behind her getting to the coffee pot and rubbed her back as he passed by. “Damn, girl!” he said.

Danni patted him on the butt as he poured his coffee. “Not my fault if you outlived your youth,” she said.

“Be your fault if ya freakin’ kill my ass.”

“You bragging or complaining?”

“Ah, since your mother is in the room, I’m complaining.”

“Want me to step out for a minute?” Satin asked.

Stitch peered at her. “Wouldn’t help,” he said. “I don’t have the strength to brag right now, ya know?”

Satin laughed, gathered up her coffee cup, and began clearing dishes. Crockett, a little off balance, moseyed out to the deck and sat in the swing. He had just leaned back when Stitch showed up.

“You okay with all this, man?” he asked.

“I will be. Gimme a little time to adjust.”

Stitch smiled. “Just remember, Crockett. I’m a gentleman from the word no, dude.”

“Never a doubt, Stitch.”

“Far out. I don’t want you to go all Baptist on my ass or somethin’.”

Crockett chuckled. “You are a piece of work, hippie.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, man,” Stitch went on. “I’m sure as hell not as young as I used to be. Holy shit!”

“You bragging or complaining?”

Stitch checked behind himself to make sure nobody else was in earshot.

“I’m braggin’, dude. Ha!”

Crockett’s reply was interrupted by the sound of Dundee’s barking. He peered around the side of the cabin in time to see Lyle Higgenbotham’s truck roll to a stop, and the old man dismount and walk toward the deck. Same gabardine suit, same Stetson stockman’s long oval tilted on his head. In a moment, a large brown envelope in hand, Lyle carefully climbed the steps to the planked floor of the porch. He smiled at Crockett.

“Mornin’ boy, am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

“Not a thing, Lyle. Good to see you.” Crockett made the introduction to Stitch, as Satin delivered Lyle a fresh cup of coffee and took a seat beside Crockett in the swing.

“Thank ya, hon,” Lyle said, turning his attention to Stitch as he eased his way down into a folding chair. “Ya know,” he went on, “I sold this here land to Crockett, then I turned around and sold it to Miz Satin, then I sold it back to Crockett agin. Got to be right confusin’ fer a while.”

“Anything that’s got Crockett around always gets confusin’, dude. It’s some kinda pretty out here, though.”

“He said he wanted wild and cheap. He got it.”

“Kinda fits ol’ Crockett, man,” Stitch said, attempting to finger comb the rats out of his hair. “Overgrown, unimproved, an’ not worth much.”

Lyle removed his hat and ran his hand over his nearly bald pate. “I allus figured that hair an’ brains don’t mix, son,” he said, “but, by God, I believe you may be the exception to that rule.

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