Read Online Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel by Warren Williams - Free Book Online
Authors: Warren Williams
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reeked of cigarette smoke and stale beer. A pool table, the felt stained and patched, sat silent at the far end of the room. A string of padded booths, back-to-back, dark and unoccupied, took up most of one wall. Two round wooden tables , pockmarked with numerous cigarette burns, filled the center of the room. A jukebox with its garish reds, greens, and yellows, glowed quietly from the far left corner. A single customer sat at the L - shaped bar, a half-empty bottle of Bud in front of him. The bartender looked up from the Boise City newspaper he was reading and eyeballed the two lawmen as they stood just inside the entrance, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Lester called out. “Earl? Earl Redman? Is that you back there?”
“It is,” the man behind the bar admitted . “What have I done now?”
Lester laid his hat on the bar, chose a stool at the opposite end from where the customer was sitting, and said, “Reckon a man could get a tall glass of ice water around here? Been a long day.”
Billy Ray remained standing, visually locating the bathroom door, and took a position where he could watch the entrance as well as the man drinking the Bud.
Redman made no verbal reply to the request , but grabbed a beer glass from a shelf and scooped it through an unseen pile of ice. He held the glass under a tap, filled it, and with a thud, placed it in front of Lester.
“Thank you , Earl. I appreciate it.” Lester took a long pull from the glass , but said nothing more and simply looked at the bartender, waiting for what might come next.
Finally, “Why are you here? I’ve done nothing wrong. My licenses are up to date.”
“Oh , not much. Just stopped to check on things, see how you were doin’…and to ask a couple questions.”
“Well, ask them and get it over with. Your pickup out there with that big gold star on it is bad for business.”
“Oh. We’re a might grouchy today aren’t we , Earl? But okay, here’s what I want to talk about. We got a missing girl, a teenager by the name of Melissa Parker. Billy Ray, you got that photo? Lester sat the framed picture of the smiling teen on the bar, using the tab on the back to hold it upright. “She lives with her folks not far from here. You know the Parkers?”
Redman gave the photo a cursory glance and shook his head. “Never heard of ‘em.”
“Okay , Earl, if you say so , but hear me out . We think Melissa left her house at some point last night and took off walkin ’ down the road, probably in this direction—must have been around ten, maybe ten-thirty, or eleven. Seein’ as to how there’s no other place around, it’s likely she stopped in here, maybe to use the phone. You recall anything like that?”
“No , I don’t , and you know damn well that I don’t allow any teenagers in here.”
“Maybe not any more,” Lester said. “But I seem to recall one summer night when a number of high school kids were spotted right out there on your patio. They were drinkin ’ your beer that you served them if I remember correctly. I wouldn’t be mistaken about a thing like that would I , Earl?”
“That happened just that one time, that’s all. One of those boys had a fake I.D. and he was settin ’ up beers for his buddies. I would have shut that down myself , but then you came along.”
“Yes, and I let it slide didn’t I? But what did I tell you that night?”
Redman glanced toward the door as another car pulled in the lot. “You said if it ever happened again, you’d shut me down quicker than a cat can lick his ass.”
Lester grinned , “That sounds like something I’d say all right.”
The door swung open diverting the attention of everyone in the bar. Two men, short in stature, and wearing blue long - sleeve d work shirts, stepped inside and chose one of the booths in the back.
“Excuse me , Sheriff,” Redman mumbled . “I need to try to earn an honest livin’ here.”
As Redman approached the booth, one of the men
Lester called out. “Earl? Earl Redman? Is that you back there?”
“It is,” the man behind the bar admitted . “What have I done now?”
Lester laid his hat on the bar, chose a stool at the opposite end from where the customer was sitting, and said, “Reckon a man could get a tall glass of ice water around here? Been a long day.”
Billy Ray remained standing, visually locating the bathroom door, and took a position where he could watch the entrance as well as the man drinking the Bud.
Redman made no verbal reply to the request , but grabbed a beer glass from a shelf and scooped it through an unseen pile of ice. He held the glass under a tap, filled it, and with a thud, placed it in front of Lester.
“Thank you , Earl. I appreciate it.” Lester took a long pull from the glass , but said nothing more and simply looked at the bartender, waiting for what might come next.
Finally, “Why are you here? I’ve done nothing wrong. My licenses are up to date.”
“Oh , not much. Just stopped to check on things, see how you were doin’…and to ask a couple questions.”
“Well, ask them and get it over with. Your pickup out there with that big gold star on it is bad for business.”
“Oh. We’re a might grouchy today aren’t we , Earl? But okay, here’s what I want to talk about. We got a missing girl, a teenager by the name of Melissa Parker. Billy Ray, you got that photo? Lester sat the framed picture of the smiling teen on the bar, using the tab on the back to hold it upright. “She lives with her folks not far from here. You know the Parkers?”
Redman gave the photo a cursory glance and shook his head. “Never heard of ‘em.”
“Okay , Earl, if you say so , but hear me out . We think Melissa left her house at some point last night and took off walkin ’ down the road, probably in this direction—must have been around ten, maybe ten-thirty, or eleven. Seein’ as to how there’s no other place around, it’s likely she stopped in here, maybe to use the phone. You recall anything like that?”
“No , I don’t , and you know damn well that I don’t allow any teenagers in here.”
“Maybe not any more,” Lester said. “But I seem to recall one summer night when a number of high school kids were spotted right out there on your patio. They were drinkin ’ your beer that you served them if I remember correctly. I wouldn’t be mistaken about a thing like that would I , Earl?”
“That happened just that one time, that’s all. One of those boys had a fake I.D. and he was settin ’ up beers for his buddies. I would have shut that down myself , but then you came along.”
“Yes, and I let it slide didn’t I? But what did I tell you that night?”
Redman glanced toward the door as another car pulled in the lot. “You said if it ever happened again, you’d shut me down quicker than a cat can lick his ass.”
Lester grinned , “That sounds like something I’d say all right.”
The door swung open diverting the attention of everyone in the bar. Two men, short in stature, and wearing blue long - sleeve d work shirts, stepped inside and chose one of the booths in the back.
“Excuse me , Sheriff,” Redman mumbled . “I need to try to earn an honest livin’ here.”
As Redman approached the booth, one of the men
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