Bone Dry (Blanco County Mysteries) by Ben Rehder Read Free Book Online

afternoon?”
     
    The woman raised her hand and drummed her fingertips theatrically on her cheek. “Well, let’s see. After lunch we stopped at the grocery store and got a few things, then we filled the car with gas. And then, yes, right at about two o’clock, I was teaching good ol’ Rodney over there the error of his ways.” The woman looked across the room at Rodney and said, in her best cocktail-party voice, “Why, hello, Rodney! Good to see you again, sweetheart.”
     
    The crowd turned and stared at Rodney, who blanched and turned toward the wall.
     
    Marlin was taken aback. Most lawbreakers, when questioned, knew how to do three things: Deny it; deny it; and deny it some more. “Ma’am, are you saying that you were over at Mr. Bauer’s ranch yesterday, and you are responsible for the damage to his truck?”
     
    “What I’m saying is that I was saving the lives of quail, dove, deer, and all the other innocent animals he would have murdered with his shotgun.”
     
    The crowd had grown tense. Someone murmured, “Take her in, John.”
     
    Which was exactly what Marlin was planning to do. “Stand up, please,” he said.
     
    The woman crossed her arms. “I will not.”
     
    Marlin glanced at Mr. Scruffy, who gave him a smug smile. Inside, Marlin groaned. He had had run-ins with anti-hunting activists in the past, and it was almost always a messy business.
     
    “Ma’am…please…stand up.”
     
    “Like hell I will. Why are you here bothering me when you should be out arresting guys like Rodney? They’re the ones carrying guns, blasting everything that moves. And yet I’m the one who’s causing trouble? That’s a joke.”
     
    Mr. Scruffy began to add something, but Marlin hushed him with a stare.
     
    Marlin took a deep breath. He was determined not to let this situation get out of control. “Miss, I’ll ask you once again: Please stand up. Don’t make me use the cuffs.”
     
    “Go to hell.” She grabbed her mug and threw her coffee onto Marlin’s chest. The crowd gasped. This, Marlin thought, isn’t going well at all.
     
    Marlin drove northward on Highway 281 in silence for a few moments, steadily covering the sixteen miles between Blanco and Johnson City. He noticed the sky was clear of clouds now, and the temperature was rapidly climbing. So much for the cold front.
     
    He glanced over at his passenger. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a handcuffed woman in custody. In fact, in nearly twenty years of enforcing hunting and fishing laws, almost all of his dealings had been with men. Simply put, men would do things women would never dream of. Like shoot deer on the side of the highway at night. Throw dynamite into a lake to kill fish. Blast a hundred doves in one day, instead of the legal limit of fifteen. Then they would spin lie after lie to try to escape punishment. At least this woman had owned up to her behavior. Too easily, Marlin figured. There had to be something behind it.
     
    “You didn’t have to throw the coffee on me, you know,” Marlin said.
     
    “Pardon me?”
     
    “I was going to arrest you anyway.” He looked over, but her face remained expressionless. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? I mean, my cruiser was sitting right in the parking lot, plain as day. You came in there for a reason.”
     
    “What are you, Sherlock Holmes?”
     
    Another mile went by.
     
    “These are really hurting my wrists.” The woman shifted in her seat, arching her back to relieve the pressure of the handcuffs behind her. Marlin tried not to notice the way her breasts strained against the front of her turtleneck. He hadn’t wanted to cuff her, but after the coffee, he’d wanted to make sure she was restrained, at least until he had a bead on her companion, Mr. Scruffy. That guy had turned out to be the placid one, merely sneering—apparently a trademark of his—while Marlin read the woman, one Inga Karin Mueller from Minnesota, her rights.
     
    Marlin