Page 66 of Brewbies
“Youthinkyou saw him, or you did see him?”
Captain Butterfield perpetually dressed like a sailor in the navy circa whenever Elvis made movies. Bell bottoms and all. You didn’tthinkyou sighted the thin, red-bearded man who stood six foot seven. You couldn’t look the fuck away.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “You hate Captain Butterfield.”
“Myrtle hates him. I’m ambivalent,” she said airily. “But he would be the kind of man to fence something so precious. I really think you should go to the docks and question him. Probably right now. Who knows if he’s looking to abscond across the border to Canada?”
Wouldn’t get far with a bunch of shiny dicks. Or twenty-five grand. Not in this economy.
“The docks on the other side of the peninsula?” Ethan asked. “By the lighthouse.”
She nodded, now shoving him toward the door. “That drive would probably take you at least fifteen minutes. Then you’ll have to talk Captain Butterfield out of his boat, which could be…weeeeeeeell, longer. Best get to it. No matter how long it takes.”
“Knowing Butterfield? All fucking day,” he guessed, folding his arms over his chest. “What is going on here, Vee?” Ethan asked, certain now that he was enmeshed in someone’s messy lie.
“Nothing!” she said, batting her eyes a little too quickly. “Nothing except the theft of a few incredibly expensive gold-plated sex toys. Probably by a modern-day pirate. Now. Off you go! I’m missing… I need to be somewhere.”
Where was she going after such a theft? Most people would need to chase a benzo with a vodka after missing 25k.
Ethan was searching his beleaguered brain for something to say when the vibration of his cell rescued him.
“What’s up, McGarvey?” he answered when the deputy’s name came up on the screen.
“Sheriff?” The anxious voice filtered through what sounded like a riot.
Instantly alert, Ethan stood. “What’s happened?”
“Sheriff, you need to meet me at Brewbies,” McGarvey’s garbled voice declared.
“Why? What’s going on?”
A long pause gave Ethan time to dash outside and rip his driver’s door open.
“I don’t even know how to describe this,” the deputy said with ball-shriveling gravitas. “You’ll have to see it for yourself.”
FOURTEEN
Body
THE PERCEIVED THICKNESS, RICHNESS, OR VISCOSITY OF BREWED COFFEE. A FULL-BODIED COFFEE IS ONE WITH A HEAVY MOUTHFEEL
As Thursdays went,today had been a pretty damn good one, all things considered.
The sun was shining, Ethan Townsend was miserable, and preparations forCirque du Caféwere coming along beautifully.
Darby swept an appreciative eye over the clearing beyond her coffee camper, dazzled by the transformation that had taken place virtually overnight.
Colorful lights zigzagged across the main entry path off the highway turnout, leading to orderly rows of striped tents housing everything from tattoo artists to tarot card readers. A kind of makeshift carnival midway buzzing with a cheerfully chaotic commotion that lent a distinct festival air to the proceedings.
Games. Booths. Candy apples. Carousels.
And friends.
In her single-minded campaign to make sure her plan went off without a hitch, Darby had spent virtually no time thinking about the reality of reuniting with her colorful contacts from the bohemian demimonde.
Or how well they may or may not mesh with her small but loyal Townsend Harbor social circle.
As she stood there surveying the scene, Darby could feel a profound sense of satisfaction flood through her pleasantly exhausted body. She had always been drawn to the creative, the eclectic, the unconventional. But as a child choked by the cold grip of her parents’ propriety, she’d always longed for places witchy and wild as well.
