Read Online See Also Deception by Larry D. Sweazy - Free Book Online Page B

nothing to provoke my appetite. I wanted to go in, look around, see if Herbert was there, and get out as quickly as I could.
    Never one to back off a decision easily, I stepped inside the Wild Pony and stopped just beyond the threshold.
    The door brushed the back of my behind, encouraging me to go farther inside, but I held fast. My eyes had to adjust to the darkness and smoke. I was on unfamiliar ground, and I wasn’t so dim as to not know that my entrance would be met with a scrutiny that I was unaccustomed to.
    Two lonely pinball machines sat butted up against the far wall with bright carnival lights flashing repetitively, begging lazily, trying to entice someone, anyone, to drop a nickel in their hungry slots. Black-topped tables surrounded by empty orange vinyl covered chairs dotted the floor to my right; a maze that would need to be traversed all the way to the bar. The ornate bar, hand-carved walnut that looked like it belonged in the last century, stretched the length of the entire wall. Sconces haphazardly lit the walls, and the overhead lights were turned off.
    A big bearded man glanced up at me from drying dull glass mugs. He hesitated a second, looked me up and down, passing judgment or assessing a threat, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t looking to drag an errant husband home and had no intention of making a scene. I stared the bartender in the eye, then turned my attention to a man sitting at the south end of the bar. Satisfied that I wasn’t going to cause trouble, the bartender went back to drying the mug.
    The man at the end of the bar made two of Herbert and was talking with a blonde waitress, barmaid, whatever she was called, who looked a few years younger than me from the neck down. Her face had miles on it that I would never travel. It was easy to tell, even in the muted light, that she’d had a worrisome, hard life. I immediately felt sad for the woman, even though I didn’t know her or remember ever seeing her. She looked up at me, met my stare, and I looked down as quickly as I could, embarrassed.
    When I looked up and directed my attention to the other end of the bar, I sighed with relief. I’d found what I’d come looking for: Herbert Frakes hunched over a highball glass half filled with an amber liquid that I assumed was whiskey. He looked like he had been planted in the seat, but his roots were shallow. It was obvious that one tap on the shoulder, one little gust of wind, one more surprise would topple him over and, perhaps, destroy him.

CHAPTER 13
    I wasn’t quite sure how to approach Herbert. I’d been around enough injured animals in my life to know to be calm and aware of every move they made. I took a deep breath of the sour tavern air and made my way to the stool next to him as gently as I could.
    â€œHerbert,” I said, sliding onto the stool, as I clutched my purse with one hand and tucked the back of my dress with the other. “Are you all right?”
    He turned to me and my gaze met his swollen, red, sorrowful eyes, and I knew I had just asked the stupidest, most insensitive question I could have asked.
    It took a second before any kind of recognition lit up in Herbert’s eyes. They were pale blue, a faded late summer sky that was saying goodbye to the swallows and hello to winter. It was the end of one season for Herbert and the beginning of another.
    â€œWhat are you doin’ here, Marjorie?” he said.
    The bartender moved my way gracefully, like he was roller skating, floating on air. He slid a cardboard coaster advertising Carling’s Black Label beer in front of me with the skill of a lifelong bowler. The round coaster stopped directly in front of me, exactly where it should have.
    â€œA drink, ma’am?” It didn’t seem to matter to the bartender that he’d interrupted the start of our conversation. His voice boomed up to the ceiling just as the Jim Reeves song came to a sad end.
    I looked over at