Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) by Nick Vellis Read Free Book Online

me in…”
    “Do I look like a damn people
person?” I said. I was joking, but only a little. “I’ve been busy and don’t ask
me about my drinking. I’m fine.”
    Roscoe’s face fell. “If you feel
that way about it captain, I’ll go,” he mumbled. “Stick it where the sun…”
    I reached out and grabbed his
shoulder. “Hold on, hold on, I’m practicing better living through being an
asshole,” I said. “You don’t deserve that. How are you Roscoe?”
    “I was fine until you opened the
friggin’ door,” he replied. “You want to grab something to eat or not?”
    At least he wasn’t putting me on
about the food at the Drunk Monk. I’d lived over the place for a handful of
years. When I was drinking, it made life hard. It had been one of the best days
of my life when the place added bar food to their lineup of beer and liquor. A
big payday on the Hunt case let me buy the building. My office and apartment
were on the second floor. I’d rented the other office suites to a couple web
designers and a local lifestyle magazine. Best of all I rented the ground floor
to my buddy Dave Holiday who ran the Drunk Monk. The place had been a dive for
years. Dave worked there and saw the potential. He bought out the old owner,
classed up the place, and hired a cook who came up with a fantastic pub menu.
Now customers lined up every night. I ate there at least once a day, sometimes
twice. Dave let me run a tab and at the end of the month, we traded meals for
rent. Since I wasn’t drinking anymore, it was a good arrangement.
    “Yeah, let’s go downstairs,” I
said, “but I haven’t tried the chicken yet.”
    “I thought you’d never ask. That’s
why I stopped here first,” he said. His smile was back. “I was hopin’ to catch
you. Guess I should have called.”
    “What, and give me a chance to duck
out on you,” I joked. “No problem, let’s eat.”
    Dave at the bar shouted to us as we
came through the door and as we headed for my usual table, Dave said, “Roscoe,
what are you doing with that deadbeat?”
    “Just slummin’ Dave, just slummin’.
Is Ben cooking?” Roscoe replied.
    “He is. Don’t tell me you know him
too?” Dave asked.
    “Oh, we goes way back,” Roscoe
boasted. He fanned himself with his pork pie hat.
    “I’ll tell him you’re here,” Dave
said. “Need menus?”
    “Naw,” I said. “Roscoe tells me I
need to branch out, try new things.”
    “You have got to get the fried
chicken,” Dave said. “It’s the best in town. I don’t know what Ben does, but
I’ve never had anything like it.”
    Roscoe gave me a conspiratorial
wink.
    “Something to drink?” Dave asked as
he leaned over the bar.
    “Sweet tea for me,” Roscoe said,
“and I’ll have the chicken. Can’t wait to have Ben’s fried chicken again.”
    “Unsweet for me, I said, “and I’ll
have…”
    Roscoe glared at me.
    “I’ll try the chicken,” I said.
    “Sweet, unsweet and two chicken
dinners it is. Thanks, gentlemen,” Dave said.
    “So to what do I owe the honor,
Roscoe?” I asked when Dave was gone.
    “Nothin’ special, I was just in the
area.”
    “Cut it out man, this is me,
remember. You hate downtown,” I observed.
    “Well, I wanted to see you,” he
admitted.
    “Did Stan send you?” I asked.
    Stan Lee was my other good friend.
The three of us had survived a couple tours in Iraq together. Stan was a newly
minted lieutenant at the Orange County Sheriff’s Office.
    “He might have mentioned he hadn’t
talked to you in a while,” Roscoe mumbled.
    “Tell him you found me sober and
leave out the fact that we ate in a bar,” I joked.
    “Seriously captain, how’s it
going?” Roscoe and Stan were both mother hens.
    “I wish for a world of peace, harmony,
and nakedness.”
    He gave me a frown and shook his
head. “You can’t laugh off a drinkin’ addiction captain.”
    “Fine, I’m busy as ever. In fact, I
picked up a new case today,” I replied.
    “Not that, you