CHAPTER
25
HE PARKED THE MALIBU on the street directly in front. The Crib Room was open and already half full. People rose and ate early here, obviously. Puller snagged a seat at a table in the corner, his back to the wall. He never sat at the counter unless there was a mirror so he could watch his rear flank. The Crib had no such mirror behind the counter. Hence that was not an option. And from here he could see his ride clearly.
He ordered the same meal for breakfast that he’d had for dinner the night before. Once you found something good you stuck to it.
He let his gaze wander over the other customers. Mostly men. Dressed for work or maybe coming home from it. No suits at this time of morning. Only working stiffs like him. He eyed the clock on the wall.
Zero-five-thirty.
He sipped his coffee. Twenty minutes to get his food and eat it. Forty minutes to the crime scene. Zero-six-thirty. Just like he’d told Cole.
He sipped more coffee. It was good, it was hot, and the mug was big. He cupped it with his hand, felt the heat sink into his skin.
The thermometer outside was already at eighty. It was also muggy. He had felt the sweat form on his body when he’d run to his car for the first aid kit. But when it was hot outside, you drank something hot. That made your body cool itself. When it was cold, the opposite. Simple science. But, frankly, regardless of the temperature, Puller liked his coffee. It was an Army thing. Puller knew exactly what it was. It was a few moments of normalcy in an otherwise abnormal world where people were trying to kill each other.
“You John Puller?”
He looked to his left and saw a man about sixty standing next to his table. He was about five-nine and rotund, with sunburned skin. Fringes of gray hair hung out from under his hat. He was also wearing a police uniform. Puller eyed the nametag.
Lindemann. The good sheriff of this fine hamlet.
“I am, Sheriff Lindemann. Please, have a seat.”
Lindemann wedged himself across from Puller. He took off his broad-brimmed hat and set it down on the table. He swept a hand through his thinning hair that was sticking up at odd angles from the encounter with the hat. He smelled of Old Spice, coffee, and nicotine. Puller began to wonder if everyone in Drake smoked.
“Won’t take up too much of your time. Figure you’re busy,” said Lindemann.
“Figure you are too, sir.”
“No need to sir me. I’m Pat. What do I call you?”
“Puller will work just fine.”
“Cole tells me you’re good at what you do. I trust her. Some say she’s a gal and shouldn’t be wearing the uniform or carrying no gun, but I’ll take her over any man I have in the department.”
“From what I’ve seen of her I would too. You want some coffee?”
“Tempting, but I have to say no. Well, at least my kidneys have to say no after three cups already. And my prostate, which Doc tells me is the size of a grapefruit. Not too many places to pee in a patrol car.”
“I can see that.”
“Tricky damn business, all this.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Not used to this stuff around here. Last murder we had was ten years ago.”
“What happened then?”
“Hubby caught his wife cheating with his brother.”
“He killed her?’
“No, she beat him to it. Shot him. And then shot the brother when he came after her for shooting his brother. Got a little convoluted, to say the least.” He paused and looked around before settling his gaze back on Puller. “We don’t ordinarily collaborate with outsiders on police matters.”
“I can understand that.”
“But the fact is we need your help.”
“I’m glad to give it.”
“You keep working with Sam.”
“I will.”
“Keep me in the loop. Media inquiries.” He said these words with considerable distaste.
“Army can help you with that. I can give you some contact info.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Puller took a business card from his pocket and wrote a name and number on the back and slid it across. The lawman picked it up without looking at it and eased it into his shirt pocket.
“I best be heading on,” said Lindemann. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Lindemann slid his hat back on and trudged out of the Crib.
As Puller’s gaze followed him out, a guy sitting two tables away caught his attention for one reason only.
He had on a U.S. Postal Service cap.