Page 101 of Wicked Pickle

CHAPTER 32

DIESEL

If I have to spend another hour in this Godforsaken permit office, I’m going to torch the place.

Merrick and I sit on the same hard bench we’ve been relegated to since this morning, elbows on knees, pissed as hell.

We haven’t eaten since breakfast. Haven’t left. We won’t go anywhere without answers.

Merrick texted Vicki and Mike from the bathroom a couple of hours ago, trying to line up coverage for this afternoon since we’re stuck.

The office doubles as the sheriff’s station and the county jail, and there’s a strict no-cell-phone policy. You can’t even have it visible, or the officer behind the glass threatens to kick you out.

Two women sit in the room, both of them waiting for someone to be released from the cells. They’ve struck up a conversation, a pissing match about whose low-life husband is the worst. It’s been a trial listening to it.

Merrick kicks out his legs. “Is this going to do a lick of good?”

“Not sure.”

“They’re making us wait for no reason.”

“I know it.”

“What the fuck do we do?”

I have no answer for him.

The window slides open, and a voice booms through the opening. “No cursing in the waiting area.” The bald man in a blue uniform points to a sign on the wall.

No food or drink.

No cell phones.

No cursing.

Right.

Merrick stares up at the ceiling. “Do we even have a plan? We put on these monkey suits and came up here without an appointment.”

“I doubt Sherman had an appointment.”

“He probably had his goons call.”

“I tried that yesterday. They didn’t call back.”

“Goddamn it.”

The window slides open. “Sir!”

Merrick waves. “Sorry. I got it. I’ll be good.”

This isn’t helping our cause. But damn it, if what Sherman said is true, we’re in a real situation. Our liquor license renewal is less than a month away. We can’t operate without it. They’ll shut us down so fast we won’t know what hit us.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, but I don’t dare take it out to look. We’re already skating on thin ice. I’m grateful Vicki thought to tell Jose to come by and get the keys. When we arrived at eight this morning, I never thought we’d be sitting here past opening time for the bar.

The side door creaks. Everyone looks up to see who is coming through.

A sorry sight of a man shuffles out. He looks like he’s thrown up all over himself.

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