Best Kept Secrets(42)

reveal something he helped to cover up?"

"Your request presented him with a problem."

"I'll just bet it did! Who is he trying to protect by keeping

that coffin sealed?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Celina's body can't be exhumed. She was cremated."



Twelve



Reede couldn't figure out why he had elected to go to the

seediest tavern along the highway for a drink when he had a

perfectly good bottle of whiskey at home. Maybe it was

because his frame of mind matched the dark, murky atmosphere of the honky-tonk.

He felt like shit.

He signaled for the bartender to pour him another drink.

The Last Chance Bar was the kind of place that refilled

glasses; customers didn't get a clean one with each round.

"Thanks," Reede said, watching the whiskey splash into

his glass.

"You staking us out undercover, or what?" the bartender

quipped.



Without moving anything but his eyes, Reede looked up

at him. "I'm having a drink. Is that all right with you?"

The silly grin collapsed. "Sure, Sheriff, sure." The bartender

backed away to the opposite end of the bar, where

he'd been carrying on a conversation with two friendlier patrons.

Reede noticed that one booth across the room was occupied

by women. Surrounding the pool table was a trio of guys

whom he recognized as wild well controllers. They were

usually a rowdy bunch who parried hard between each dangerous

gig. For the time being, they were peaceable enough.

Pasty Hickam and Ruby Faye Turner were cuddled in another

booth. Reede had heard in the B & B that morning that

Angus had canned the old ranch hand. Pasty had made a

damn stupid mistake, but Reede thought the punishment was

severe. Apparently, Pasty was being consoled by his latest

flame. Reede had doffed his hat in their general direction

when he had come in. They gave every appearance of wanting

to be ignored as much as he wanted to ignore them.

It was a slow night at the Last Chance, which suited the

sheriff just fine for professional as well as personal reasons.

He had gulped his first drink, barely tasting it. This one

he sipped because he needed it to last longer. Nursing it

delayed going home. Being alone didn't hold much appeal

for Reede. Neither did passing time in the Last Chance, but

it was better than the first option. At least, tonight it was.

The whiskey had started a slow fire in his belly. It had

made the twinkling Christmas lights, strung year-'round over

the bar, seem brighter and prettier. The dinginess of the place

wasn't so obvious when viewed through whiskey fumes.

Since he was beginning to mellow, he decided this would

be his last drink of the night, another reason to savor it. Reede

never drank to the point of intoxication. Never. He'd had to

clean up after his old man had puked up everything but his

toenails too many times for him to think that getting shit-faced

was fun.

When he was just a kid, he remembered thinking that he



might grow up to be a jailbird or a monk, an astronaut or a

post-hole digger, a zookeeper or a big game hunter, but one

thing he was not going to be was a drunk. They already had

one of those in the family, and that was one too many.

"Hiya, Reede."

The sound of the breathy, feminine voice interrupted his contemplation of the amber contents of his glass. He raised

his head and immediately saw a plump set of tits.

She was wearing a skin tight black T-shirt with born bad

spelled out in glittering red letters. Her jeans were so tight

she had difficulty climbing onto the bar stool. She managed,

but not without jiggling her breasts and pressing Reede's thigh

in the process. Her smile was as brilliant as a zirconium ring,

and not nearly as genuine. Her name was Gloria, Reede

remembered, just in time to be courteous.

"Hi, Gloria."

"Buy me a beer?"

"Sure." He called out the order to the bartender. Glancing

pointedly over his shoulder, Reede called her attention to the

group of friends she'd left sitting in the booth across the dim

tavern.

"Don't mind them," she said, flirtatiously tapping his arm

where it rested on the bar. "It's every girl for herself after

ten o'clock."

"Ladies' night out?"

"Hmm." She tipped the long-neck to her glossy lips and

drank. "We were headed for Abilene to see the new Richard

Gere movie, but the weather turned so bad, we said what the

hell, and decided to stay in town. Wha'chu been up to tonight?

You on duty?"

"For a while. I'm off now." Reluctant to be drawn into

conversation, he returned to his drink.

Gloria wasn't going to be dismissed that easily. She scooted