better
exhaust fan.
Billy Dan motioned to an unoccupied seat. The old
timers downed the last of their coffee, stubbed out their cigarettes, slapped a
couple of bills on the table, and stood. One of the men stuffed a half-smoked
cigarette into his overall pocket.
“We gotta git goin’,” the first geezer said, nodding
to Randolph and jamming a faded ball cap on his head. He mumbled, “Good to see
ya, Judge.”
“There’s catfish waitin’ fer us at Taylor’s pond,”
the second one chimed in. He grinned, revealing several missing teeth.
Randolph was well acquainted with the two. He’d
thrown both of them in jail for poaching. He appreciated that they weren’t keen
on sharing a table with him.
“I didn’t mean to run off your cohorts.” Randolph
jerked his thumb toward the departing figures. “One of ’em left a cap here,” he
added, picking up a well-oiled, saggy John Deere cap and setting it to the
side. He pulled out a chair and joined Billy Dan, sliding aside the used coffee
cups.
Billy Dan shook his head. “You know the Hefner
brothers. They have no use for politicians, preachers, or lawyers.”
“Especially judges, right?”
Billy Dan grinned. “They still don’t see eye to eye
with the Conservation Commission.” He signaled for a waitress to come to the
table. “I haven’t seen you in a good while, Judge. I hear you’re a successful
artist these days. I enjoyed that piece about you in the paper.”
Randolph shook his head and smiled. The newspaper
had done a feature article about his art career and had called it Trading
the Bench for a Brush. The glowing praise for his art had embarrassed him.
Billy Dan stubbed out his cigarette and waved his
empty cup at a nearby waitress. “Kathy, honey, can you bring the coffee pot?
And bring a clean cup for Judge McCarter.”
The slim brunette wearing a nametag on her left
breast that said Krista arrived with a steaming stainless steel pitcher
of coffee and a heavy ceramic mug. She set both on the table and whisked away
the used cups. She swiped the top of the table with a damp cloth that reeked of
bleach.
“Need cream and sugar?” she asked, now wiping more
vigorously. She turned her large brown eyes to Randolph.
“Yes, thanks.” Randolph smiled at her, holding his
cup up out of the way. She retrieved a miniature stainless-steel pitcher of
cream from a nearby table.
“Help yourself to the coffee.” She beamed a megawatt
smile back at Randolph while turning her back on Billy Dan. She trotted away to
her other customers.
“Her name is Krista.” Randolph stirred fresh country
cream into his coffee while enjoying the view as she sashayed away.
“I know. I call her Kathy just to irritate her.”
Billy Dan grinned and poured himself more coffee.
“One of these days she may pour hot coffee all over
you, just to irritate you back.”
Billy Dan chuckled.
Turning to Randolph, he asked, “What brings you all
the way to Marble Hill?” He sipped the piping hot coffee carefully before
setting his cup down.
“I have something I want to show you.” Randolph
pushed his own cup aside. He emptied the contents of the manila envelope on to
the table. He slid the enlarged copy of the schematic across to Billy Dan but
left the photo Woody printed of the transformer face down.
Billy Dan scrutinized the enlarged copy for several
minutes, turning it first one way, and then another. “Where did this come
from?”
“Before I tell you about that, can you first tell me
what we’re looking at?” Randolph reached for his cup and blew across the hot
beverage before sipping carefully.
“Sure. It’s a schematic.” Billy Dan squinted at the
drawing. From his shirt pocket, he removed a pair of wobbly, wire-frame reading
glasses with a broken earpiece. He attempted to balance them on the bridge of
his nose. Holding the glasses in place with one hand, Billy Dan lowered his
head to scrutinize the drawing.
Randolph turned over the photo that Woody
exhaust fan.
Billy Dan motioned to an unoccupied seat. The old
timers downed the last of their coffee, stubbed out their cigarettes, slapped a
couple of bills on the table, and stood. One of the men stuffed a half-smoked
cigarette into his overall pocket.
“We gotta git goin’,” the first geezer said, nodding
to Randolph and jamming a faded ball cap on his head. He mumbled, “Good to see
ya, Judge.”
“There’s catfish waitin’ fer us at Taylor’s pond,”
the second one chimed in. He grinned, revealing several missing teeth.
Randolph was well acquainted with the two. He’d
thrown both of them in jail for poaching. He appreciated that they weren’t keen
on sharing a table with him.
“I didn’t mean to run off your cohorts.” Randolph
jerked his thumb toward the departing figures. “One of ’em left a cap here,” he
added, picking up a well-oiled, saggy John Deere cap and setting it to the
side. He pulled out a chair and joined Billy Dan, sliding aside the used coffee
cups.
Billy Dan shook his head. “You know the Hefner
brothers. They have no use for politicians, preachers, or lawyers.”
“Especially judges, right?”
Billy Dan grinned. “They still don’t see eye to eye
with the Conservation Commission.” He signaled for a waitress to come to the
table. “I haven’t seen you in a good while, Judge. I hear you’re a successful
artist these days. I enjoyed that piece about you in the paper.”
Randolph shook his head and smiled. The newspaper
had done a feature article about his art career and had called it Trading
the Bench for a Brush. The glowing praise for his art had embarrassed him.
Billy Dan stubbed out his cigarette and waved his
empty cup at a nearby waitress. “Kathy, honey, can you bring the coffee pot?
And bring a clean cup for Judge McCarter.”
The slim brunette wearing a nametag on her left
breast that said Krista arrived with a steaming stainless steel pitcher
of coffee and a heavy ceramic mug. She set both on the table and whisked away
the used cups. She swiped the top of the table with a damp cloth that reeked of
bleach.
“Need cream and sugar?” she asked, now wiping more
vigorously. She turned her large brown eyes to Randolph.
“Yes, thanks.” Randolph smiled at her, holding his
cup up out of the way. She retrieved a miniature stainless-steel pitcher of
cream from a nearby table.
“Help yourself to the coffee.” She beamed a megawatt
smile back at Randolph while turning her back on Billy Dan. She trotted away to
her other customers.
“Her name is Krista.” Randolph stirred fresh country
cream into his coffee while enjoying the view as she sashayed away.
“I know. I call her Kathy just to irritate her.”
Billy Dan grinned and poured himself more coffee.
“One of these days she may pour hot coffee all over
you, just to irritate you back.”
Billy Dan chuckled.
Turning to Randolph, he asked, “What brings you all
the way to Marble Hill?” He sipped the piping hot coffee carefully before
setting his cup down.
“I have something I want to show you.” Randolph
pushed his own cup aside. He emptied the contents of the manila envelope on to
the table. He slid the enlarged copy of the schematic across to Billy Dan but
left the photo Woody printed of the transformer face down.
Billy Dan scrutinized the enlarged copy for several
minutes, turning it first one way, and then another. “Where did this come
from?”
“Before I tell you about that, can you first tell me
what we’re looking at?” Randolph reached for his cup and blew across the hot
beverage before sipping carefully.
“Sure. It’s a schematic.” Billy Dan squinted at the
drawing. From his shirt pocket, he removed a pair of wobbly, wire-frame reading
glasses with a broken earpiece. He attempted to balance them on the bridge of
his nose. Holding the glasses in place with one hand, Billy Dan lowered his
head to scrutinize the drawing.
Randolph turned over the photo that Woody
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