Read Online Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel by Warren Williams - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Warren Williams
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pointed to the Coors sign in the window, and then held up two fingers. Redman returned to the bar. “Mexicans,” he said under his breath as he poured two drafts from the tap. “Can’t speak a word of English. Probably wetbacks.”
“You mean illegal immigrants?” the S heriff asked. “Oh, I doubt that. Think about it , Earl. You think illegals would park beside my pickup, the one with the star on the door, and then walk in here and order a beer?”
Redman made a grunt sound, served the two men, and collected their money.
On the way to the cash register, he stopped in front of the Sheriff, making a show of wiping his hands on a towel from his back pocket, as if he were worried about germs from people with brown skin and said, “ Don’t you have something else to do beside harassing law-abiding, tax-paying citizens?”
Lester took a long look at the man sitting at the other end of the bar. “Matter of fact I do , Earl.”
The man that Lester approached had a large frame with a belly overhang that sagged a considerable distance below his belt buckle. A cotton print shirt with the sleeves cutout made it impossible to overlook his massive and hairy arms. The scowl on his face seemed set in stone, like it hadn’t held a smile in a lifetime. The man took a short sip from the bottle as he watched the reflection of the S heriff get larger in the mirror.
Lester took the nearest stool and sat with his back to the bar, facing the man, elbows up, and relaxed. “J.O.,” the S heriff said, “I thought I remembered that handsome face. Billy Ray, this here is J.O. Mecham. J.O. and I have a bit of history, don’t we J.O.?” Mecham said nothing and took another hook off the bottle, never taking his eyes from the mirror as Billy Ray came up behind, standing close.
“J.O., why don’t we step outside, just for a minute or two? We need to catch up on old times, you and I.”
Mecham swiveled a quarter turn on the bar stool, his dark, deeply recessed eyes gleaming with malice. “Why don’t you eat me, you mother…”
Lester’s hand shot out like a bullet, clamped around Mecham’s throat and squeezed hard, choking off the words. “Don’t go there , J.O.”
Long before Mecham’s beer - soaked brain could process any sort of retaliation, the deputy grabbed one of his hairy arms at the wrist, twisting it out and backward, causing J.O. to yelp in pain. Billy Ray held the arm rigid as a pole, elbow locked, and pushed the big man forward until his faced banged on the bar, spilling the Bud.
“Out the door , J.O., now,” Lester said, easy like. “Peaceable being our goal here.”
At the booth, the two Mexicans watched with only mild interest , sipping their Coors. They had seen men removed from bars before.
The two light poles in the parking light, their ghostly blue having been turned on by the automatic timer, shone down on the trio of men, one of which was now bent over the hood of Lester’s pickup. Billy Ray did the pat down; pockets, belt, but stopped when he slid his hand down one of J.O.’s heavy brogans.
“Got a knife.” The deputy held his find up to the light.
“Switchblade?” Lester asked.
“No, not exactly. It’s one of those that you can flip open with a flick of the wrist though. You put your finger on this little knob here on the blade,” he said, demonstrating the action, “and give it a flip.” The four inch steel flashed in the bluish light. Billy Ray tossed the knife on the hood of the pickup and finished the search. “Nothin’ else.”
“Okay,” Lester said, “I think we can talk now. J.O., were you here last night?”
“I’m here most ever night ,” Mecham admitted . “ So?”
“How about between the hours of ten and eleven, or thereabouts?
“I don’t remember.”
“Didn’t figure you would, but just for the sake of argument, let’s assume you were. Did you see a young girl walk through ? A teenager, long brown hair? She might have looked older. She has a nice
“You mean illegal immigrants?” the S heriff asked. “Oh, I doubt that. Think about it , Earl. You think illegals would park beside my pickup, the one with the star on the door, and then walk in here and order a beer?”
Redman made a grunt sound, served the two men, and collected their money.
On the way to the cash register, he stopped in front of the Sheriff, making a show of wiping his hands on a towel from his back pocket, as if he were worried about germs from people with brown skin and said, “ Don’t you have something else to do beside harassing law-abiding, tax-paying citizens?”
Lester took a long look at the man sitting at the other end of the bar. “Matter of fact I do , Earl.”
The man that Lester approached had a large frame with a belly overhang that sagged a considerable distance below his belt buckle. A cotton print shirt with the sleeves cutout made it impossible to overlook his massive and hairy arms. The scowl on his face seemed set in stone, like it hadn’t held a smile in a lifetime. The man took a short sip from the bottle as he watched the reflection of the S heriff get larger in the mirror.
Lester took the nearest stool and sat with his back to the bar, facing the man, elbows up, and relaxed. “J.O.,” the S heriff said, “I thought I remembered that handsome face. Billy Ray, this here is J.O. Mecham. J.O. and I have a bit of history, don’t we J.O.?” Mecham said nothing and took another hook off the bottle, never taking his eyes from the mirror as Billy Ray came up behind, standing close.
“J.O., why don’t we step outside, just for a minute or two? We need to catch up on old times, you and I.”
Mecham swiveled a quarter turn on the bar stool, his dark, deeply recessed eyes gleaming with malice. “Why don’t you eat me, you mother…”
Lester’s hand shot out like a bullet, clamped around Mecham’s throat and squeezed hard, choking off the words. “Don’t go there , J.O.”
Long before Mecham’s beer - soaked brain could process any sort of retaliation, the deputy grabbed one of his hairy arms at the wrist, twisting it out and backward, causing J.O. to yelp in pain. Billy Ray held the arm rigid as a pole, elbow locked, and pushed the big man forward until his faced banged on the bar, spilling the Bud.
“Out the door , J.O., now,” Lester said, easy like. “Peaceable being our goal here.”
At the booth, the two Mexicans watched with only mild interest , sipping their Coors. They had seen men removed from bars before.
The two light poles in the parking light, their ghostly blue having been turned on by the automatic timer, shone down on the trio of men, one of which was now bent over the hood of Lester’s pickup. Billy Ray did the pat down; pockets, belt, but stopped when he slid his hand down one of J.O.’s heavy brogans.
“Got a knife.” The deputy held his find up to the light.
“Switchblade?” Lester asked.
“No, not exactly. It’s one of those that you can flip open with a flick of the wrist though. You put your finger on this little knob here on the blade,” he said, demonstrating the action, “and give it a flip.” The four inch steel flashed in the bluish light. Billy Ray tossed the knife on the hood of the pickup and finished the search. “Nothin’ else.”
“Okay,” Lester said, “I think we can talk now. J.O., were you here last night?”
“I’m here most ever night ,” Mecham admitted . “ So?”
“How about between the hours of ten and eleven, or thereabouts?
“I don’t remember.”
“Didn’t figure you would, but just for the sake of argument, let’s assume you were. Did you see a young girl walk through ? A teenager, long brown hair? She might have looked older. She has a nice
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