The Blight Way by McManus Patrick F

Author:McManus, Patrick F.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2006-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

The restaurant was packed. Fortunately, the owner, Charlie Crabb, had reserved Tully’s usual table for him off in a quiet corner. A small lamp shaped like a lantern threw a red light over the tablecloth. Crabbs was the only restaurant in town with actual tablecloths. Both Charlie and Tully thought it gave the place a touch of class. Tully didn’t much care for the waitpersons, who seemed to project an attitude that the diners had been granted a considerable privilege to spend their money at Crabbs.

“I thought there would be crab on the menu at Crabbs,” Susan said, obviously disappointed.

“Afraid not,” Tully said. “As you can see from the menu, this is basically red-meat country. I do recommend the prime rib, though.”

“Thanks,” she said, “but I’ve had enough red meat for one day. Maybe I’ll go with the catfish.”

“Good choice,” Tully said. Susan’s red-meat image had taken the edge off his appetite. “I think I’ll have that, too.”

“So what do you think that business at the Last Hope Mine Road was all about?” she asked.

“I don’t have much of an idea yet,” he said. “The clothes, the money, the fact that all the dead guys were from L.A., make me think drugs had to be involved. But we’ve never had much of a drug problem in Blight County. For one thing, most folks here are so poor they can’t afford drugs. Maybe that’s the reason they have such a dim view of them. A known drug dealer here would not be viewed highly. Blight is still pretty much back in the fifties, particularly in regard to dope fiends.”

“Dope fiends! It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that term.”

“It’s one of my favorites.”

“So you’re also an artist?”

“Yes. Actually, I like to think of myself as an artist working as a sheriff.” He took a sip of his water. One thing about Blight City, it still had good water.

“That seems reasonable,” Susan said. “So what kind of artist are you?”

“Painter,” Tully said. “Oils and watercolors.” He didn’t like to discuss his art, particularly on a first date.

“The folks around Blight must be pretty impressed at having a sheriff who paints.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I get a chance, I head up along the West Branch with my watercolors. Sometimes when I can get away, I’ll camp out up there for a week and do nothing but fish and paint.”

“Sounds nice.”

A waitress came to take their drink orders. Tully ordered a bottle of white merlot. “You want anything?” he asked Susan.

She laughed. “I think I’ll just drink some of your merlot.”

“Two glasses then,” he told the waitress.

“Vern Littlefield,” he went on, “is apparently switching from cows to grapes. We may soon have our own Blight County Winery.”

“Sounds like a step in the right direction,” Susan said.

A waiter came and permitted them to order dinner. Susan ordered the catfish with garlic mashed potatoes. Tully said, “Same for me.” They both took the salad bar. When they returned from the salad bar, Susan dipped

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