Read Online Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Lucky by Cate Ellink - Free Book Online
Authors: Cate Ellink
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Episode 2—Lucky
Dare strode towards the Milpinyani Springs Royal Hotel which was both the site of his accommodation and the hub of the town, if anything with a population of 356 could have a hub. He’d never lived in a small town but if that’s what it took to be made an acting sergeant, and then hopefully sergeant, that’s what he’d do. He’d arrived an hour ago keen, eager, maybe even a little full of himself, but that soon vanished when he found the police house not ‘a little rundown’ but uninhabitable. Broken windows had granted access to vermin and they’d taken up residence. He’d have to live at the pub until repairs were made—and no one could tell him how long that would take. Apparently services weren’t easily available this far from a large town. No one had fully explained the joys of rural living.
It was no difficulty to find the pub—it was in the main street where all the utes were haphazardly stopped out the front. As if quenching your thirst was more important than parking correctly. But he wasn’t here to issue tickets. Not yet anyway. One of the older blokes on the force had suggested he settle in to town before playing the tough cop. He didn’t fully understand that, but Barney wasn’t giving any more pointers, so he’d just have to work it out. He was certain it meant no tickets on his first day in town. Since he wasn’t in uniform, no one would know how he itched to issue tickets or park those utes properly.
He’d heard that Lucky ran a good pub, so he expected something large and modern, like on the coast. The cops who knew the place, along with some of the locals he’d met, spoke of Lucky with respect, so he pictured him as a strict older bloke who was good to his clients and staff and probably didn’t have the time or energy to spruce up the place. It looked rundown and could do with a bit of paint. He looked along the street, but it fitted in with the town.
The pub was a fair size for a small place. A wide verandah looked as though it went right around the building. Out the back, scattered among the huge gums, were sheds. Why would the pub need sheds? He brushed the soles of his boots on the wire mat before he strode across the verandah. Guess he’d find that out while living here.
He pushed against the heavy glass door and it moved soundlessly. The old bloke must keep the doors oiled at least. Immediately in front of him was the short end of the bar—polished wood top, corrugated iron front. He swung to his left and followed it into the large main room. He glanced around. Okay, so maybe he’d made a hasty judgement. Inside was a total contrast to outside. Nothing fancy. Fibro sheeting lined the walls, but it gleamed like it’d been painted recently. Large palms in big pots staked out the corners to give a little privacy or close up the space. It was huge, old, but well-cared for.
The wall behind the bar had shelves with liquor bottles, a few decent landscapes, and the obligatory silver fridge on the floor, running the length of the bar. In the room itself, the walls were covered in hats, caps, postcards and curled photos. He walked to the bar and leant an elbow on it, waiting to be served.
At five o’clock the clientele were a mix of old and young, men and women. Some were scrubbed clean and others looked as if they wore a few weeks’ worth of grime. Music burst from the back of the room, but not so loudly you couldn’t think. Loud enough to muffle conversations. There was a vibe here that was different to any pub he’d been in. Not exactly friendly. But no animosity either. It was early evening, so a bit hard to judge. Maybe things changed as the night came.
A woman who couldn’t be more than five foot two, and fifty kilos wringing wet, stood across the bar from him. She wasn’t young, maybe mid-thirties. Petite, but athletic. Her brown hair was pulled off her face in a ponytail that fell past her shoulders making her look younger, or maybe it was those big
Dare strode towards the Milpinyani Springs Royal Hotel which was both the site of his accommodation and the hub of the town, if anything with a population of 356 could have a hub. He’d never lived in a small town but if that’s what it took to be made an acting sergeant, and then hopefully sergeant, that’s what he’d do. He’d arrived an hour ago keen, eager, maybe even a little full of himself, but that soon vanished when he found the police house not ‘a little rundown’ but uninhabitable. Broken windows had granted access to vermin and they’d taken up residence. He’d have to live at the pub until repairs were made—and no one could tell him how long that would take. Apparently services weren’t easily available this far from a large town. No one had fully explained the joys of rural living.
It was no difficulty to find the pub—it was in the main street where all the utes were haphazardly stopped out the front. As if quenching your thirst was more important than parking correctly. But he wasn’t here to issue tickets. Not yet anyway. One of the older blokes on the force had suggested he settle in to town before playing the tough cop. He didn’t fully understand that, but Barney wasn’t giving any more pointers, so he’d just have to work it out. He was certain it meant no tickets on his first day in town. Since he wasn’t in uniform, no one would know how he itched to issue tickets or park those utes properly.
He’d heard that Lucky ran a good pub, so he expected something large and modern, like on the coast. The cops who knew the place, along with some of the locals he’d met, spoke of Lucky with respect, so he pictured him as a strict older bloke who was good to his clients and staff and probably didn’t have the time or energy to spruce up the place. It looked rundown and could do with a bit of paint. He looked along the street, but it fitted in with the town.
The pub was a fair size for a small place. A wide verandah looked as though it went right around the building. Out the back, scattered among the huge gums, were sheds. Why would the pub need sheds? He brushed the soles of his boots on the wire mat before he strode across the verandah. Guess he’d find that out while living here.
He pushed against the heavy glass door and it moved soundlessly. The old bloke must keep the doors oiled at least. Immediately in front of him was the short end of the bar—polished wood top, corrugated iron front. He swung to his left and followed it into the large main room. He glanced around. Okay, so maybe he’d made a hasty judgement. Inside was a total contrast to outside. Nothing fancy. Fibro sheeting lined the walls, but it gleamed like it’d been painted recently. Large palms in big pots staked out the corners to give a little privacy or close up the space. It was huge, old, but well-cared for.
The wall behind the bar had shelves with liquor bottles, a few decent landscapes, and the obligatory silver fridge on the floor, running the length of the bar. In the room itself, the walls were covered in hats, caps, postcards and curled photos. He walked to the bar and leant an elbow on it, waiting to be served.
At five o’clock the clientele were a mix of old and young, men and women. Some were scrubbed clean and others looked as if they wore a few weeks’ worth of grime. Music burst from the back of the room, but not so loudly you couldn’t think. Loud enough to muffle conversations. There was a vibe here that was different to any pub he’d been in. Not exactly friendly. But no animosity either. It was early evening, so a bit hard to judge. Maybe things changed as the night came.
A woman who couldn’t be more than five foot two, and fifty kilos wringing wet, stood across the bar from him. She wasn’t young, maybe mid-thirties. Petite, but athletic. Her brown hair was pulled off her face in a ponytail that fell past her shoulders making her look younger, or maybe it was those big
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