Read Online Knight's Late Train by Gordon A. Kessler - Free Book Online
Authors: Gordon A. Kessler
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went back to the mirror. “Looks like the police are here. Tamara and Harper just pulled up in separate cars. And a third car pulled in after them. I don’t like it.”
Oz patted her hand. “Now don’t go getting your clouds full of rain. I’m sure E Z’s okay.”
“Yeah, I hope so. But he’s either been hurt or killed — or they’re after him for something.”
Oz set his jaw, and his gaze went to the doorway.
Smokey loved the big man like a father. She’d known him for over fifteen years, since she and her now deceased husband bought the Marina. At that time, Osia had recently purchased the run-down sailboat pier and restaurant for the bar business only, and was hoping to find a partner who would fix up the marina and give it a go. He’d found not only a partner, but friends who’d welcomed him into their family.
“Want me to get the cannon?” came a thin but steady voice from the end of the bar.
Smokey had forgotten about See-Saw. Oz let the old blind man sleep in the storeroom, and he was seldom seen anyplace but on his usual stool at the far and purposely darkened end of the bar. E Z’s pup, Jazzy Brass, sat on the stool next to Cecil “See-Saw” Esau, and the old man was stroking her back, expressionless. The “cannon” he referred to was Oz’s huge handgun with a barrel longer than Smokey’s foot and a bore you could drop a marble into.
Oz told him, “Not yet. We don’t wanta shoot cops until we know what they’re up to … then we’ll let ‘em have it.”
Smokey was sure they were mostly joking … mostly.
When the door opened, See-Saw shrank back into the dim light and Oz puffed out his chest. “Good afternoon!” he called out, cheerfully. “Can I help you ladies?”
The black man in a charcoal, silk suit leading Tamara and Harper did a stutter step, and what had been a frown was now a scowl. “Where’s Ethan Knight.”
Oz ignored him. “It’s great to see you Miss Tamara, Miss Harper.” He put a couple of glasses on the bar. “What will it be, Shirley Temples or a couple of my End of the World Martinis ?”
Oz claimed he made the best martinis anywhere, and everyone seemed to agree.
But Lt. Harper Lee Legend had no smile in return. A step inside Oz’s bar usually made the hardnosed detective beam like a candle.
“We’re here on business, Oz,” she said, finally allowing a nearly imperceptible smile.
“I said, I’m here to see Ethan Knight,” the black man insisted.
“Miss Tamara,” Oz asked, “surely a little glass of Rum Chata? Look, it’s nearly 5:00 o’clock already.” He thumbed toward the wall clock behind him.
“Thanks,” Parole Officer Tamara White Cloud said, “But I can’t.”
Smokey exchanged nods and smiles with the ladies, deciding to let Oz handle things — at least until they got out of hand. The good thing was , if they were looking for E Z, it meant they weren’t carrying the news that he’d been hurt or killed.
“So what brings two of the three loveliest girls in town to ol’ Oz’s bar?” he winked at Smokey.
Tamara asked, “Have you seen E Z?”
Oz kept his own bright grin. “That big handsome fella all you ladies are in love with? Sure, I’ve seen him.”
“Where is he?” the man insisted.
Oz poured a couple of ice waters instead of drinks , and pushed them toward the ladies. “Well, pull up a couple of stools, and we’ll share stories about ol’ E Z. We can have a little girl talk. You know, if I was of the persuasion — and I’m not, you understand,” he said, striking a feminine pose, head tilted and wrist bent, “I think I’d be looking for him, too.”
“Look you,” the man blurted out, “You don’t ignore me!”
“I hear a fly,” Oz said and reached for the flyswatter. “No, I think it’s one of those gnats. You know, the kind that flies around a dog’s private parts?”
The man slammed his hands flat on the bar and leaned toward Oz. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am Edward
Oz patted her hand. “Now don’t go getting your clouds full of rain. I’m sure E Z’s okay.”
“Yeah, I hope so. But he’s either been hurt or killed — or they’re after him for something.”
Oz set his jaw, and his gaze went to the doorway.
Smokey loved the big man like a father. She’d known him for over fifteen years, since she and her now deceased husband bought the Marina. At that time, Osia had recently purchased the run-down sailboat pier and restaurant for the bar business only, and was hoping to find a partner who would fix up the marina and give it a go. He’d found not only a partner, but friends who’d welcomed him into their family.
“Want me to get the cannon?” came a thin but steady voice from the end of the bar.
Smokey had forgotten about See-Saw. Oz let the old blind man sleep in the storeroom, and he was seldom seen anyplace but on his usual stool at the far and purposely darkened end of the bar. E Z’s pup, Jazzy Brass, sat on the stool next to Cecil “See-Saw” Esau, and the old man was stroking her back, expressionless. The “cannon” he referred to was Oz’s huge handgun with a barrel longer than Smokey’s foot and a bore you could drop a marble into.
Oz told him, “Not yet. We don’t wanta shoot cops until we know what they’re up to … then we’ll let ‘em have it.”
Smokey was sure they were mostly joking … mostly.
When the door opened, See-Saw shrank back into the dim light and Oz puffed out his chest. “Good afternoon!” he called out, cheerfully. “Can I help you ladies?”
The black man in a charcoal, silk suit leading Tamara and Harper did a stutter step, and what had been a frown was now a scowl. “Where’s Ethan Knight.”
Oz ignored him. “It’s great to see you Miss Tamara, Miss Harper.” He put a couple of glasses on the bar. “What will it be, Shirley Temples or a couple of my End of the World Martinis ?”
Oz claimed he made the best martinis anywhere, and everyone seemed to agree.
But Lt. Harper Lee Legend had no smile in return. A step inside Oz’s bar usually made the hardnosed detective beam like a candle.
“We’re here on business, Oz,” she said, finally allowing a nearly imperceptible smile.
“I said, I’m here to see Ethan Knight,” the black man insisted.
“Miss Tamara,” Oz asked, “surely a little glass of Rum Chata? Look, it’s nearly 5:00 o’clock already.” He thumbed toward the wall clock behind him.
“Thanks,” Parole Officer Tamara White Cloud said, “But I can’t.”
Smokey exchanged nods and smiles with the ladies, deciding to let Oz handle things — at least until they got out of hand. The good thing was , if they were looking for E Z, it meant they weren’t carrying the news that he’d been hurt or killed.
“So what brings two of the three loveliest girls in town to ol’ Oz’s bar?” he winked at Smokey.
Tamara asked, “Have you seen E Z?”
Oz kept his own bright grin. “That big handsome fella all you ladies are in love with? Sure, I’ve seen him.”
“Where is he?” the man insisted.
Oz poured a couple of ice waters instead of drinks , and pushed them toward the ladies. “Well, pull up a couple of stools, and we’ll share stories about ol’ E Z. We can have a little girl talk. You know, if I was of the persuasion — and I’m not, you understand,” he said, striking a feminine pose, head tilted and wrist bent, “I think I’d be looking for him, too.”
“Look you,” the man blurted out, “You don’t ignore me!”
“I hear a fly,” Oz said and reached for the flyswatter. “No, I think it’s one of those gnats. You know, the kind that flies around a dog’s private parts?”
The man slammed his hands flat on the bar and leaned toward Oz. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am Edward
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