Page 7 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“How much do you need?” Mom asked.
Sergeant Bergman rubbed his jaw. “Five pounds should do it.”
Opening a cabinet door, Mom took out a five-pound can of dry-roasted and set it on the counter. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“No.” Sergeant Bergman eyed the omelet on my plate hungrily.
Mom smiled. “Sit down. I’ll fix you one.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Sergeant Bergman happily took the chair next to me.
Dad poured him a cup of coffee. “The county attorney is dismissing the charges against Chuck Hennessey.”
“It’s the right thing to do. His dementia is getting worse, and his family agreed to put him in a secure care home.”
I snorted. “That crazy old coot almost killed Gemma and me. He needs to be locked up, not sent to a care home.”
“I agree,” Mom said. “He likes making bombs too much.”
Dad shrugged. “It’s out of our hands.”
“Which care home are they putting him in?” Please don’t let it be in my beat.
“Sun Gardens,” Sergeant Bergman answered.
Damn. It was in my beat. “They’ve had three walk aways in the last six months.”
“They’ve upgraded their security,” Dad advised.
I made a face and gulped down the rest of my omelet. I had a report I needed to finish.
“Oh, by the way, I assigned Roger Evans to work Gemma’s beat today,” Sergeant Bergman said.
“What? Are you kidding me? When there’s trouble, he runs the other way.”
Sergeant Bergman fixed his cold-eyed stare on me. “It’s not up for debate, Garza.”
“Yes, sir.” I picked up my plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”
“Keep hydrated, sweetie. It’s supposed to be one hundred and eighteen today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” From the look on Dad’s face, I knew he was going to ask about Evans. Fighting back a grin, I walked out the kitchen door and the heat hit me like a sledgehammer. Thank God the Sheriff’s Department was still using the Alpha Dogs training center as a substation, and it was only a short walk away.
Edgar trotted up and dumped a dead rabbit at my feet. I stroked our pet coyote’s head. “Thanks, but I’ve already had breakfast. You go ahead and eat it.”
He cocked his head and yipped.
“Yep,” I patted my stomach. “All full.”
Edgar wagged his tail, picked up the rabbit and headed for the orange grove.
Bodacious, Dad’s ornery Brahma bull, bellowed at me. His beach ball was sitting on my side of the fence. Dad had to buy him his own beach ball to keep him out of the pool. The silly cow loved playing with it.
I walked over to the barn. “You want your ball back, don’t ya?”
Bodacious snorted.
“Okay.” I picked up the ball and threw it over the fence. “Go get it big boy.”
