Dark Places

Dark Places by Reavis Z Wortham Page B

Book: Dark Places by Reavis Z Wortham Read Free Book Online
Authors: Reavis Z Wortham
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rain was their new way of life. Ned met Cody in the sheriff’s office parking lot and they drove through a light drizzle to both of Chisum’s body shops to see if anyone had come in with damage to a hood or fender. No one reported repairs consistent with the hit and run, but they promised to give Cody a call if they ran across anything.
    When they were back in the car, Ned shook water off his hat onto the floorboard and plucked the microphone off the dash bracket. “John, you listening?”
    Thunder rumbled as Cody steered the sheriff’s car onto North Main. It was gloomy enough that the lights came on in the stores and reflected off the wet concrete and bricks. Most of the people without umbrellas stuck to the covered sidewalks for shelter and avoided the open town square and its Italian marble fountain. “You could use his call numbers, you know.”
    â€œYep, and he’d answer the same.” Ned didn’t like call numbers. He preferred to use the radio the same way he talked.
    â€œGo ahead, Mr. Ned.” Deputy John Washington’s voice was deep and rich even through the cheap radio speaker. John was a mythical figure in Chisum, a giant of a man whose shoulders brushed most doorframes when he passed. He was the first official black deputy in the county, and though it wasn’t written anywhere, Big John’s assignment was to represent the law to the colored folks.
    Ned considered John a family member. They worked closely together through the years, and had a reputation that covered northeast Texas. Both men were fair, but didn’t take any nonsense from anyone, black, white, red, or green.
    â€œMe’n Cody are heading over to Malcom Jackson’s shop. You want to meet us there?”
    â€œSure ’nough. Trouble?”
    â€œNaw. Checking body shops. You heard about the hit and run in Center Springs?”
    â€œI did. A’ite. See you there.”
    Cody turned south. “Where’s the shop?”
    â€œYou ain’t been there?”
    â€œNot that I remember.”
    They passed Nathan Jewelers. “Hit West Washington and keep going.”
    Cody glanced at Ned, and then did a double take that would have been funny any other time. “You okay?”
    Ned wondered what Cody knew. He hadn’t been feeling great for the past couple of weeks, and his stomach tingled deep inside where he’d been shot months ago. “I’m fine. Why?”
    â€œYour face is beet red. Your blood pressure must be up.”
    â€œI feel a little flushed is all.”
    â€œYou’re more than flushed. You better run by Doc Heinz’s office.”
    â€œYou’re bound and determined to get me into the doctor’s office these days, ain’t you?”
    â€œIt’s not that, but you were supposed to go by a long time ago for him to check out that wound. I don’t know why you don’t do it.”
    Ned absently rubbed his belly where the bullet had caused considerable damage. “Because I’ve got better things to do than have him poke at me for a minute and then want ten dollars for looking at my tongue.”
    Pools of water spotted the broken streets. The houses changed from the Craftsman, Tudor, and Victorian styles to more modest bungalows and saltboxes. Fewer houses were painted, and those that were, boasted bright colors. They cruised down streets without curbs. In places, grass only grew in the ditches full of running water. Contrasting with other parts of town, the yards were mostly bare mud. Scattered among those who seemed to barely survive, other houses bloomed bright with late season flower and vegetable gardens.
    Despite the weather, the neighborhood corner mom and pop grocery was busy. Ned pointed. “Across the street there.”
    What was once an unpainted livery stable had been converted to a garage. Wide oak trees shaded two bare dirt lots packed hard and black from years of spilled grease, oil, and traffic.

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