having caught up on sleep (I think), I went to post the new Chesterfield chapter and lo and behold, Livejournal is down. So without any further ado,
Chapter 32:
http://louisev.livejournal.com/225739.htmlI pasted this before LJ came back up:
32.
“Okay now before you say a single word here, Mel, I want you ta know it ain’t goin out a this office ta nobody. Isn’t that so, Counselor?”
Mel Ruskin gave Wes a blank look. “Of course,” he said, mildly confused. “I haven’t lost my mind, Wesley.”
“No but there are a few things that bear repeatin, especially when you got things eatin at ya that might not eat at ya any other time...” Wes said carefully. “Mel, I have sat at this desk talkin to my fair share a instant shake an bake widows and widowers over the past twenty five years, an some a the time they have been friends a yours an friends a mine. An I can’t say I have ever been in the shoes yer in now but I have at least learned the best thing ta say ta somebody at the darkest hour an the best thing to say to an elected official is that you have my complete confidence an that a yer trusted employees. Ain’t that so?”
Mel gave him a weak grin. “And you just happen to know that the thing preying on my mind right now is whether your men up at Memorial right now are gonna let anybody take a picture of me or of Bunny or of the scene of the accident and put it on the front page of the Phoenix Herald with dire predictions of a recall election only a year into my second term.”
“I only got one thing ta say about that, Mel,” Wes said, straightening in his chair and shooting a warning look at Paula, who was quietly watching both men – “thank god it ain’t three months ago.”
“I was a shoo-in three months ago.”
“So you were. And so was I by some miracle a yer coattails. And I think the people a this county reelected you because you did a damn good job, the mayor notwithstandin. An don’t let whatever Mormalizin Fred tries on you, just smile an shine it on. You probably can’t keep em from the funeral but you can keep em from tryin ta convert you to his God. I’m speakin frankly here, Mel.”
Mel winced at the word “funeral.” “Right now I can’t even think about that. And I ... I haven’t even called Barry yet.”
Paula looked up. “Barry?”
“My son. Our – son.”
Wes held up a hand. “You want me ta call em? I can say yer still up at the hospital.”
“No, Wes, I can do it myself. I’m the attorney for the county, I handle murder and accidental death all the time.”
“Why don’t we give the D.A. some privacy, Sheriff?” Paula said, her voice tense and controlled.
“Okay, good idea.” Wes stretched in his chair, picking up his cigar once more and placing it in the corner of his mouth, then he moved the phone across the messy desk in front of Mel, whose shoulders were hunched once again. He had fallen silent once more. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be out kickin my faithful staff’s asses about escortin the linemen down to the substation so we can get the lights on in this benighted town.”
“Thanks Wes,” Mel replied perfunctorily, his mind now occupied with the task of telling his son that after the unsuccessful result of her latest alcohol treatment, his mother had taken the keys to their car and killed not only herself but another resident of his hometown. It was heavy news.
Paula said nothing after the door closed, but went to the coffeepot and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, downing it black.
“Uh, Counselor.”
“What is it, Sheriff?”
“I owe ya an apology.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I lied.” Wes’s voice was soft and sheepish.
“Yes, you did.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, it will,” she said, her voice clipped.
“Please don’t tell Mel.”
“I don’t intend to. He has enough on his hands right now without knowing that you browbeat me to go to the hospital tonight telling me he had no family.”
“Yeah, that is true enough, I’m glad we look at it the same way.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Can I go home now?” she asked.
“I think it might be better if ya stayed.”
“I don’t. He has you now. And – Barry.” Paula set down her cup with a loud click and buttoned her coat. “Good night, Sheriff. Take good care of him.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mel had not emerged from Wes’s office, the phone calls had slowed down at the switchboard, and Jeremy Dupree came through the security door, looking angry and frustrated. “Okay I’m back.”
“How are the roads?” Wes said, flicking small bits of loose tobacco out the end of the cigar. He still had not lighted it.
“Better, they’re sandin now so it’s safe on the main roads at least, there’s a roadblock up at the county road an the 666 has been closed from Duncan to Clifton.”
“An the electricity?”
“Don’t know anythin about that, got to talk to the emergency services.”
“Murdoch? Public Service phone in yet with an E.T.A. on the power?”
“Nope. I guess they’re still workin on it,” Murdoch said. “Hey Jeremy.”
“Can I talk to you in private, Sheriff?”
“No.”
Jeremy stared at him. “Sheriff?”
“Not unless we go in Ellery’s office. D.A.’s usin mine, talkin to his kid on the phone. I don’t envy em makin that call.”
Jeremy sobered. “Oh, yeah.”
Wes put his hand on the door of Ellery’s office. “An you ain’t gonna tell em I violated his sanctum sanctorum right?”
“Right.”
“We need Joe for this?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Just as well, he’s workin the assault right now, tryin ta get his ducks in a row since we’re on emergency service right now anyhow.” Wes waved Jeremy into Ellery’s office and sat down gingerly at the unfamiliar desk, which he still thought of as Warren’s. “Now what is this about, Detective?”
“It’s about this case. And – about Esteban.”
“Oh fuck, this now. I hope you don’t mind the smell a cigars,” he said, lighting up.
Topic: Was: Laramie Tales: New Working Title: Tales of Greenlea County (ARCHIVE) (Read 541576 times)