Read Bone Dry (Blanco County Mysteries) for Free Online Page A

weather for something so petty.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    The rain was long gone by Monday morning, but things were still slow—no calls from the sheriff’s dispatcher—so Marlin met Phil Colby for breakfast at a small cafe attached to the bowling alley in Blanco. He was also expecting to see Rodney Bauer, who had called Marlin’s home number early that morning. Bauer wouldn’t specify why he wanted to see Marlin, but said it had something to do with an odd incident that happened while he was quail-hunting yesterday.
     
    The diner was quiet, with only a dozen or so customers, all die-hard regulars willing to brave the weather for a hot breakfast. Marlin and Colby were in a booth, drinking coffee, waiting for the waitress to bring their orders.
     
    “You watchin’ the Cowboys this afternoon?” Colby asked.
     
    “Probably catch it on the radio,” Marlin replied.
     
    “Lookin’ like a pretty bad year.”
     
    Marlin nodded.
     
    “Their runnin’ game has gone to hell,” Colby said, “and their defense is a sieve.”
     
    Marlin heard the jingle of the bell hanging on the front door of the diner and glanced over, but it wasn’t Rodney Bauer.
     
    “Have I told you about my new two-seventy?” Colby asked. “That sucker can hit the same hole twice at a hundred yards. Can’t wait to get out hunting next week.”
     
    “Yeah, you mentioned it,” Marlin said. He knew Colby was trying to draw him into conversation, to help him quit dwelling on other, less pleasant topics. Like the fact that Becky was gone, probably for good.
     
    Unfortunately, in a small town, gossip travels faster than a spooked mare, and Marlin knew the locals were wondering whether he and Becky were still seeing each other. Marlin had no idea why people were so interested in other people’s social lives. They were always asking vague, not-so-innocent questions, giving him sympathetic looks, trying to draw information out of him. What have you been doing lately? Haven’t seen you in town much... where you been? You still living by yourself out there in the sticks? Like the other day, when Susannah Branson had asked him if he had lost weight. What Marlin had heard, between the lines, was: Haven’t you been eating? What’s bothering you? That’s why he had given her the smart-ass “tapeworm” answer. Because Marlin didn’t want to talk about it.
     
    Colby went quiet and focused on the basketball game playing on the TV mounted above the bar.
     
    After a few minutes of silence, the bell jingled again and Rodney Bauer walked in. He spotted Marlin and Colby and strolled casually to their table. “Hey, John—hey, Phil. Y’all mind if I join you?”
     
    “I thought that was the plan,” Marlin said, and Rodney sat down.
     
    Rodney signaled the waitress for coffee, then leaned in close over the table. He whispered, “Something really strange happened to me yesterday, John, and I’m pretty pissed off about it.” In a quiet voice, Rodney led Marlin through the events of the day before.
     
    “She jammed the muzzle of your gun into the mud?” Marlin repeated. Next to him, Colby let out a small laugh.
     
    Rodney nodded. “That’s what I said: She shot the shit outta my truck, and when she was done, she shoved my gun into the mud. Then she said that I should be ashamed of myself. For shootin’ birds, of all things.”
     
    Colby suppressed a giggle by trying to disguise it as a cough. “Ain’t funny,” Rodney said, glaring at Colby. “Took me a solid hour to clean that mess up. And my Chevy is all screwed up.”
     
    “She driving an old yellow Volvo?” Marlin asked.
     
    “Never did see what she was drivin’. By the time I came to my senses, she had hopped the fence again and was gone.”
     
    “What’d she look like?”
     
    Rodney looked down at the table. “Well, that’s why I’m keepin’ this kinda quiet.” He glanced furtively around the diner. “She’s finer than frog hair, boys. Tall and blonde and an