Romeo Fails by Amy Briant Read Free Book Online

misdemeanor to deface government property. Plus, it makes the town look bad. What if tourists saw our sign looking like that? They’d probably keep right on going to Grover.”
    What tourists? Dorsey thought.
    Mrs. Gargoyle continued, “I’d love to see somebody go to jail for that, I surely would.” She chomped on her gum with extra vigor to emphasize her deep feelings on the matter.
    “So who did it?” asked Good.
    “Luke’ll find out,” Gargoyle said with confidence as she raised her window and slowly cruised off.
    “The Crime of the Century,” Goodman said sardonically to his sister as they entered the bar.
    “Which one?” Dorsey replied with a laugh. “Her flowers or the highway sign?”
    “Take your pick.”
    The Hamlet was uncharacteristically busy for a Sunday evening, especially a rainy one. Maybe the rain had canceled other people’s plans like it had hers, Dorsey thought. As Good headed to the bar to get them a couple of draft beers, she grabbed the only open table, a booth right by the front door. There were only two other booths. The one next to her was occupied by four women with whom she’d gone to school, although they’d been a few years ahead of her: Courtney Flugelmeyer, Tanya Hartwell and two of the Lucchese sisters. All had been mainstays of the 4-H club in their day. They were smoking and laughing loudly. They looked more than a little drunk. Pitchers of beer—one full, one at half-mast and one empty—crowded their table, along with the remains of a pizza, which was the new house specialty. The owner had installed a pizza oven around the first of the year and so far, it was a big hit—the next closest pizza parlor was in Grover City. Dorsey sat down in her booth on the side farthest from them, her back to the front door, hoping they were too tipsy to notice her. The third booth was taken by two local farmers and their wives, having a night on the town by the looks of things. The air was warm with the smell of booze, pizza, cigarettes and damp flannel.
    Police Chief Luke Bergstrom, in jeans and a T-shirt, was playing pool with some guys from the grain elevator. The pool table took up most of the floor space in the small tavern. Besides the booths lining the front windows and the pool table in the middle, a bar ran the length of the room in the back, paralleling the booths. Seated at one end of the bar was Justin Argyle in his dirty jean jacket, morosely nursing a bottle of Coors. An empty seat separated him from some college boys, home for the summer. Country music was playing on the jukebox, but the sounds of many different conversations and the crack of the cue ball relegated it to the background.
    Good set down two tall chilled glasses of beer on the table, then slid into the other side of the booth.
    “Thanks, Good.”
    “Cheers,” he said. They both took a long and fortifying swig.
    “You know, Maggie could help you with those books,” Dorsey said, knowing how much he hated to ask for help.
    Good shook his head, frowning. “I’m sure she has a lot better things to do with her time than that. No, I’ll figure it out on my own. I always do, sooner or later.”
    A cool gust of air blew down the back of Dorsey’s neck as someone came in the bar.
    “Speaking of Maggie,” Good said, “isn’t that her cousin?”
    Dorsey half-turned in her seat. Sure enough, Sarah stood there in the entryway, a few raindrops glistening on her leather jacket and the lenses of her glasses. Her nose was wrinkled as she surveyed the dim room, although it was unclear whether that was due to the cigarette smoke, the people, the music or The Hamlet itself.
    “Sarah!” Dorsey raised her voice to be heard over the noise of the bar.
    Sarah turned in surprise at hearing her name. Her face lighted as she saw Dorsey sitting there. She crossed the few steps to their booth.
    “Hey, Dorsey,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    “Sarah, this is my brother Goodman. Good, meet