Aunt B smiled at me above the rim of her cup. “I would say those chances are very, very good.”
I got up. “I’d best get on with it, then.”
Aunt B’s eyes sparked with an amused ruby light. “Lika will fill you in on the details. Good luck, dear.”
I would need every drop of it, too.
“And Andrea?” Aunt B said. “You and I have made a deal today. I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
It was like she had looked into my head and seen that inside I was still wobbling. I talked the talk and walked the walk, but somehow she had sensed my hesitation.
“If Curran sets the date for your admittance and you fail to show up, it would be truly disastrous.”
“No worries,” I told her. “I’ll be there.”
To say that Beau Clayton was a good old Southern Boy would be an understatement. The man kept a can of green boiled peanuts on his desk, for crying out loud. For some reason, it was half-filled with bullet casings.
Beau looked at me from behind his desk, which was organized to within an inch of its life. He was big as all hell and half of Texas, a massive bear of a man, with lineman’s shoulders and power-lifter’s arms that strained the sleeves of his crisply-ironed khaki uniform shirt. His dark brown, wide-brimmed sheriff’s hat rested on a hook on a wall, within easy reach. Above it a rapier hung, a beautiful sword with an ornate basket hilt. I was pretty sure I had seen it before, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall where.
“It’s always nice to see you, Ms. Nash,” Beau drawled.
I gave him my most dazzling smile. If he thought he could out-Southern me, he was in for a shock. “May I ask why you have bullet casings in that can, Sheriff?”
“Every time someone shoots at me, I put the casings into the can,” he said.
Alright then.
“So what brings you to the sunny skies of Milton county?” Beau asked.
“You have some of the Pack’s people in lockup.” And my first test as a beta was to get them out.
“We’re always glad to have guests in our jailhouse,” he said. “We almost never get lonely.”
I licked my lips, moistening them, and Beau’s gaze slid down. Well, how about that? Hehehe.
“I understand you have three of our boys,” I said. “How would I go about getting them released?”
Beau leaned against his chair. “Well, this is where we run into a problem. From what I understand, your boys caused a disturbance at the Steel Horse, assaulted two men, and damaged some property there.”
I crossed my legs. “As I recollect, the Steel Horse is in Fulton County.”
“You recollect correctly, but you see, your boys were out for a hell of a night. Not satisfied with that bit of fun in Fulton, they continued their brawl down Gawker Alley, which put them twenty feet inside Milton County when they were subsequently apprehended.”
Drat.
Beau’s eyes sparkled a bit. “Eyewitness accounts indicate a female was involved.”
I smiled at him. “A female is always involved. So how does your version go?”
Beau clicked the recorder on his desk. A young man’s voice filled the room. “So we were just sitting there and then there was a girl and she was looking at Chad and me.”
Slurring his words a bit. Not quite sober. Not by a long shot.
“And Chad said, ‘Hey, pretty, come hang with us,’ and the big black dude said, ‘Shut your mouth, white boy.’”
I arched my eyebrows at Beau. The big black dude would be Kamal, who had never said a nasty word to anyone in his entire life.
“And he said, ‘Shut your mouth,’ and I said, ‘We just talking’ and the other black guy said, ‘We gonna beat your ass if you keep running your mouth.’ And then he made one of those hand signs. You know, one of those gang things.”
Oh, this was just getting better and better. Beau was making a valiant effort to remain stoic, but his face betrayed the long-suffering look of someone who had to listen to something patently idiotic.
“What happened next?” an older female voice asked.
“We got up to leave, and the girl wanted to come with us, and the first black guy, he, like, got up and he was all, ‘You’re not leaving!’ and we were all like, ‘Yes we are,’ and then I threw some chicken at them so they’d know we meant business, and the white kid who was with them, he picked up Chad and threw him through the window.”
Drunk knights in shining armor, protecting the hapless female from the clutches of scary black guys. Give me a break.
“Then what happened?” the older female asked.
“Then they left and went up the street. And Chad was like, ‘We can’t let them get away with this shit,’ so we followed them. And I said, ‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing with that throwing people through windows and shit.’ And the white guy said, ‘You must like going through windows.’ And I told him ‘Fuck you’ in a polite voice and he threw me through the window.”
Beau clicked the recorder off.
“It’s good that he used his polite voice,” I said. “Otherwise no telling what would’ve happened.”
Beau grimaced. “They aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed and booze didn’t improve their IQ any.”
“And what do the Big Scary Black Guys say?” I asked.
“They say that the kids were drunk and kept hitting on the girl who was with them. One of them wandered over, and threw some buffalo wings at them, and got thrown through the window. The girl took off and they decided to leave. The two geniuses followed them and got thrown through the front window of Chuck’s Hardware.”
“Tossing chicken at people constitutes an assault,” I said. “By their own admission, they threw the first punch.”
“In the instance of the situation at the Steel Horse, correct. However, your people are not being held for the incident at the Steel Horse; they are being held because during a verbal altercation in Gawker Alley, they took it upon themselves to put two people through Chuck’s window.”
He had me there. “With all due respect, that’s a continuation of the same incident.”
“I can see why you might think that, but it took Mike and Chad ten minutes to stagger their drunken way up Gawker. It’s two different incidents and you know it.”
Argh. “I beg to differ.”
“I respect your right to differ, but that doesn’t change reality. I cannot have people thrown through windows willy-nilly in my county.”
We stared at each other. The level of politeness had risen to dangerous levels.
“We would be delighted to pay restitution to Chuck’s Hardware and to restore his window,” I said. “We are happy to set it right. Would he be willing to drop charges?”
“He’s a reasonable man,” Beau said. “It will cost you.”
I shrugged. “Boys will be boys, Sheriff. You know how it is, they have fun and we pay the bills.”
“You also have Jeff Cooper to deal with,” Beau said. “Mike’s dad. He’s in my front lobby fuming and making an ass of himself. He wants assault charges to be brought up.”
I pulled a small plastic case from my pocket and showed him the disk inside it.
“What’s this?”
“Surveillance footage.”