“Ma!” Hank held up a hand. “Enough,” he told her and she shut her mouth. “Now, I gotta go and I am not taking that loaf with me cause we both know you bought it from Dehlia’s.” Hank rose.
Catherine stared a beat too long at her son before she crossed the room to him, lifted up on her toes, and grabbed his cheeks like she used to when he was a little boy. “Guilty, but I wanted to see my boy.”
Hank squinted his eyes at his mom, and knew very well that she wanted the gossip because she saw him pretty much on a daily basis. “Thanks, Ma,” he said, kissed her forehead, moved from her grip and made his way to the front door.
Once in his SUV, he put a hand to the middle console and remembered he needed to stop and get some Advil or aspirin. Or maybe some bourbon. Or both. Yes, both sounded good. He pulled up in front of the station, but instead of going in, he walked across the street toward Maisy’s Market. With his strides long and quick, he was able to dodge all that tried to stop him by offering a quick greeting.
“Hey, Darling,” Maisy greeted when Hank entered the store.
Hank just raised a hand and went straight to the painkiller aisle. He didn’t grab the small bottle; he got the biggest one they had and made his way to the check out.
Hank forcefully placed the bottle on the counter, which got Maisy’s attention. “Next time, tell my ma I’m eating fucking aspirin.” He didn’t wait for her to ring him up, just reached in his pocket, threw a ten-dollar bill on the small counter and walked out.
“You given any more thought to that wet t-shirt contest, Sheriff? It’d be a money maker for this town,” Elmer called to Hank as he started across the street to the station house. “Sal and I will audition the contestants, you know cause we’re givers and all that shit.”
Hank should have purchased two bottles. He turned back, stepped up on the sidewalk. Elmer Cofer and Sal Mills were in their usual spot, a table outside Dehlia’s. It was an unspoken law in town, that table was theirs. Both were in their seventies. Elmer was as bald as Sal was shaggy, his white hair sticking out all over his head like he was perpetually just climbing out of bed. They looked like fishermen in their customary plaid shirts and faded jeans, worn even in the heat of summer, but as far as Hank knew, they’d never lifted a fishing rod. Both were lifelong bachelors, both had no family to speak of but each other, and both didn’t have a filter…whatever was in their heads came out of their mouths. They were pains in his ass, but Summerville wouldn’t be Summerville without them. As Josephine described them, they were the town’s version of Statler and Waldorf, with the difference that they weren’t grumpy, but dirty-minded old men making commentary on everything and everyone. And at the rate Hank was going, one day he was going to fill one of those chairs.
A woman walked by, her skirt lifting a bit from the breeze. Sal observed loudly as she passed, “Too bad it ain’t more windy today.”
Elmer gestured with his hands to his chest. “She’d make a good contestant.”
Hank gave a second thought to stepping out in front of the midafternoon bus. It was just one of those days. But if he was honest with himself, since he became the sheriff of Summerville eight years ago, it was just one of those lives.
“Heard you were out to see the new chick. No flies on you, Sheriff,” Elmer said and added, “If I was twenty years younger, you’d have some competition.” He flashed a smile, showing his missing teeth. “I was a real looker in my day.”
The sound that came from Sal was a cross between a laugh and a bark. “Age does things to your memories.” He turned his attention on Hank. “You heard about beer goggling…” He pointed to Elmer. “He was the inspiration for that. The more a woman drank, the better he looked and even then his best lighting was pitch darkness.”
Elmer huffed but Hank didn’t miss the grin.
“Gentlemen, as always, a pleasure,” Hank said and added as he started for the station. “Not really, but try and keep your comments tactful today, can ya?”
“So that’s a no for the wet t-shirt competition? Well, shit, we’re back at square one,” Elmer said.
Hank halted his steps and shouted to Elmer. “Sure, I’ll sign off on that but just remember that Hya will be all over that shit.” Hank ended with a chuckle when the look on the men’s faces changed.
Sounding as contrite as he ever had, Sal said, “Didn’t think of Hyacinth.” He glanced over at Elmer as he unconsciously rubbed his leg that had a run-in with Hyacinth’s cane earlier in the week. “Maybe not a great idea.”
“This is why we elected you, Sheriff. You’re a smart man.” Elmer called after him.
Hank continued to his destination, tossed his hand in the air and yelled, “Try my best.” Then he quickly walked through the station doors, hoping to make a beeline to his office without dealing with…
“Now where you off to like your ass is on fire?” Jo questioned, sitting behind her desk that greeted folks entering the station. Her eyes drifted down and sparkled before she added, “Would be a shame.” Her gaze met Hank’s. “Tell me about the flood victim? What’s she like? She sounds pretty.”
Hank stopped, looked around for a bottle of water, half drunk cup of coffee, hell, even some liquid cleaner
