Carnosaur Crimes by Christine Gentry Page B

I’m just an errand boy.”
    They chatted on other subjects for another ten minutes until Dorbandt finished half his sandwich. Then he looked up, found the waitress, and caught her eye. She bustled over, and he asked, “Could you wrap this? I’d like it to go. And bring the bill, please.” The woman nodded and picked up his platter.
    â€œYou’re leaving?”
    â€œGot an early morning tomorrow. Take your time. This is my treat.”
    Ansel sighed. Dorbandt had decided their chat was over. Plus he could avoid probing questions. Now she didn’t feel so bad about not telling him details about the other fossil thefts. He was holding back, and it was fair play that she do the same. As usual, he didn’t trust her to keep quiet about their discussion. Would they never erode this layer of mistrust between them?
    She picked at her chili while Dorbandt waited for his doggy bag. The Revelation Stompers noisily exited the restaurant en masse, leaving the room strangely silent. After getting his foil-wrapped grub, Dorbandt placed a twenty on the table and stood.
    â€œStay out of trouble, Ansel. Your father will peg my hide if something happens to you.”
    Annoyed at his proprietary tone, she said with false sweetness, “Have a safe trip, Reid. I’ll expect to hear all about it when you return.”
    â€œUh huh,” he mumbled in a noncommital tone. “Adios.”
    The front entrance closed behind the detective, and Ansel finished her ale but not the chili. She wondered why Dorbandt had really come to Swoln for dinner. He’d only eaten half the buffalo sandwich he’d professed such a hunger for on the phone.
    When the waitress walked over to take the bill receipt and money, Ansel smiled and asked, “Excuse me, but could you tell me how long the man eating with me was at the table before I sat down?”
    The woman’s pale face crinkled in thought as she picked up the tab and Dorbandt’s crisp Hamilton. “Sure. Came in about an hour before, Sweety. Spent a lot of time jawing with Humpy. Twern’t easy for me with the place hopping full of Holy Rollers, either. I had to fuss about the orders not coming up fast enough.”
    â€œHumpy?”
    â€œThe owner.” She motioned toward the grill, cackling a laugh. “Humpy Duval. Can’t miss him. Long beard and a bump on his back.”
    Ansel looked toward the sizzling, ember-spewing pit. Humpy, sporting a waist-long black beard and standing behind roaring, log-stoked flames, chopped raw buffalo steaks into narrow strips, then dipped them into fry batter. For the first time, she noticed the large tent of shirt fabric pushing up between his shoulder blades. Humpy had an abnormally curved spine caused by Kysosis.
    â€œDo you know what he talked to Humpy about?”
    â€œAsked about some Indian who ate here last Friday night. Talked to me, too. I waited on the fella.”
    â€œAn Indian? What did he look like? What was his name?”
    Forehead scrunching up again, the waitress stared thoughtfully at the water-stained roof squares and drawled a barrage of words. “No name. Young, quiet, and polite. Short black hair. Thin face. Cowboy duds. Ate a buffalo sandwich and left with a limp. Paid in cash. That’s all I know. Gotta git to cleaning tables. Come again.” She hustled away.
    Irritation coursed through Ansel’s veins like electric heat. So Reid knew the poacher had eaten at the restaurant the same night he’d gone to steal the fossil tracks. Somehow he’d tracked the man’s activities to Humpy’s and hadn’t shared that information. She didn’t like being skunked. Reid wanted to catch more criminals associated with the poacher while she wanted to save the museum grounds from government real estate barons like Broderick. They both had their reasons for learning the poacher’s identity.
    Ansel left the restaurant a few minutes later. She was