“No wonder he’s been like a scalded snake all week,” Winnie mused, watching Keely closely. “And he hasn’t even called Misty. Odd, isn’t it?”
“Just slow down, if you please. I danced with him,” Keely muttered. “Of course I got lipstick on his collar.”
Winnie’s happy mood slowly drained away. She frowned. “Are you sure that’s all?”
Keely gave her friend a speaking look. “Boone can’t stand me. He was just trying to find out why Clark and I had gone to a dance and Clark was missing.”
“Oh, Fish and Chips!” Winnie muttered.
“Excuse me?”
Winnie shifted. “Good Lord, I’m catching Hayes Carsonitis!” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“Hayes Carson doesn’t cuss like a normal man. He says things like ‘Crackers and Milk!’ and ‘Fish and Chips!’ It rubs off when you’re around him.”
“What are you doing hobnobbing with Hayes Carson?” Keely asked.
“On the radio!”
“Oh. Right.”
“He’s not bad-looking,” Winnie mused. “And he’s much friendlier than Kilraven. I should really set my cap at him.”
“You’d break Kilraven’s heart,” Keely teased.
Winnie wrinkled her nose. “Like he’d notice if I flirted with another man,” she said shortly. “He’s trying Boone’s tactics. He’s ignoring me.”
“He’s probably just busy.”
Winnie toyed with her napkin. “Men are not worth the trouble they cause,” she said irritably.
Keely laughed. “No,” she agreed. “They aren’t.”
“And don’t we both lie well?” Winnie retorted.
Keely nodded.
The little café was crowded for a Saturday, mostly with tourists trying to enjoy the last fleeting days of August. Jacobsville had an annual rodeo that drew crowds, because it attracted some of the stars of the circuit. The prize money wasn’t bad, either.
“There are a lot of cars with out-of-state tags,” Winnie murmured. “I guess it’s the rodeo that draws them.”
“I was just thinking about the rodeo.” Keely chuckled. “Great minds running in the same direction.”
“Exactly. I think—” Winnie’s voice broke off. She was staring at the front door helplessly.
Keely glanced toward the entrance. Kilraven, still in uniform, was standing just inside the door. He really was hunky, Keely thought; tall, handsome and elegant with silver eyes and thick black hair. He was muscular without it being blatant.
“Excuse me,” he called in his deep voice. “Is anyone here driving a red SUV with Oklahoma plates?”
A young man in jeans and chambray shirt raised his hand. “Yes. I am,” he called. “Anything wrong, Officer?”
Kilraven walked to his table, spotted Winnie and Keely and nodded politely before he stood over the man. “Did you pick up a deer from the side of the road, sir?” he asked.
The young man laughed. “Yes, I did. It was just killed by a car, I think, because it was still warm and limp when I picked it up.” The smile faded. “I was only going to take it home and cut it up for my freezer. Did I do something wrong?”
Kilraven cleared his throat. “You might want to call your insurance agent.”
The young man looked blank. “Why?”
“The deer wasn’t dead.”
“Wasn’t…dead?” He nodded.
“And it left the vehicle rather suddenly, through your windshield.”
The young man was still nodding. “Through the windshield?” He stiffened. “Through my windshield? In my brand-new truck? Aaahhh!”
He jumped up, overbalancing his chair so that it fell. He almost trampled a couple getting out the door. His scream of dismay could be heard even with the door closed.
Kilraven shook his head as he paused beside Winnie. “The deer was just stunned,” he said with faint amusement in his silver eyes. “We had a man make that same mistake about six months ago during hunting season. But fortunately for him, the deer came to before he could lift it into his truck.”
Outside the café, the screams were getting louder.
Kilraven glanced outside and chuckled. “He’ll want a report for his insurance agency. I’d better go write him up.”
“Have they found Macreedy yet?” Winnie asked with a drawl and a grin.
Kilraven groaned. “He surfaced over in Bexar County about five yesterday afternoon trailing forty cars in a funeral procession. They were supposed to be headed for a cemetery in Comanche Wells, where they were due at three o’clock,” he added, because Keely was looking puzzled. “He did finally get them to the right church…after several cars stopped to get gas.”
“That’s twice this month. They should never let Macreedy lead a funeral procession,” Winnie pointed out.
Kilraven chuckled. “I told Hayes Carson the same thing, but he says Macreedy will never learn self-confidence if he pulls him off public service details now.”
“Doesn’t he have a map?” Keely wanted to know.
“If he does, he can’t ever find it,” Kilraven said with a sigh. “He led the last funeral procession down into a bog near the river and the hearse got stuck.” He laughed. “It’s funny now, but nobody was laughing at the time. They had to get tow trucks to haul everybody out.”
“Hayes should cut his losses and put Macreedy on administrative duties,” Winnie said.
“Big mistake. Hayes put him in charge of the jail month before last and he let a prisoner out to use the bathroom and forgot to lock him up again. The prisoner robbed a bank while he was temporarily liberated.” He shook his head. “I don’t think Macreedy’s cut out for a career in law enforcement.”
“Yes, but his father does,” Winnie reminded him.
“His father was a career state trooper,” Kilraven told Keely. “He insisted that his son was to follow in his footsteps.”
“Hayes Carson is our sheriff,” Keely said, confused. “Macreedy’s a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Yes, well, Macreedy started out working as a state trooper,” Winnie began.
Kilraven was chuckling again. “And then he pulled over an undercover drug unit in their van just as they were speeding up to stop a huge shipment of cocaine. They’d been working the case for weeks. The drug dealers got away while Macreedy was citing the drug agents for a burned-out taillight. Macreedy’s dad did manage to save him from the guys in the drug unit, but he was invited to practice his craft somewhere else.”
“So Hayes Carson got him,”
