Stay of Execution by K. L. Murphy Page A

matter what we think here. Spradlin has been cleared. Bottom line is, the press, the state, heck, even the nation is watching what this man’s gonna do.” His eyes swept the diner, landing on the table of reporters. The angry glares followed his gaze. “And what everyone here needs to understand is that means they’re also watching what we’re gonna do.” He smiled. A ­couple of the reporters ducked their heads. “Of course, they’re only doing their jobs, same as we would. It’s not their fault. We are a peaceful town, and that’s what they’re gonna see.” He smiled wider, revealing a row of bright white teeth. “Hey Jenna, fill everyone’s cups, will ya? It’s on me!”
    The tension was gone as quickly as it had skyrocketed. The crowd around the mayor scattered. Giggles rose from a booth in the corner, and Kenny Chesney’s voice boomed from the old jukebox near the kitchen. Julia exhaled, relaxing her shoulders. It was only then that she noticed the mayor watching her, a tiny smile playing about his lips. He moved closer to her, until they were only inches apart.
    â€œYou okay?” he asked. He cocked his head to one side.
    Her face grew hot. Had she seemed nervous, afraid? “Kind of an angry group, aren’t they?”
    The mayor’s smile disappeared. He pointed at several tables filled with locals. “These are good ­people.”
    â€œIf you say so.”
    â€œI do.” He raised three fingers in the air, his expression solemn. “Scout’s honor.”
    â€œWow. Do ­people still do that?”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œThat Scout’s honor thing?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he laughed and blushed. “Look, I’m sorry about putting your friends on the spot like that. It wasn’t fair.”
    â€œThey’re not my friends,” she said automatically.
    â€œOh.” He angled his head, his face serious. “Aren’t you a reporter?”
    â€œI am. What I meant to say was I know them, but I’m not with them exactly . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    â€œOka-­ay. Well, I’m sorry anyway, you know, about diverting attention toward them.”
    â€œThey’ll live.”
    â€œGood to know.”
    Julia held his gaze. Fine lines around his eyes and tiny grooves at the corners of his mouth softened his kind face. “I have to say, you sure know how to work a crowd. That free coffee thing was brilliant.”
    He laughed again. “Comes with the job, I guess.” He extended his hand. “Ted Baldwin. I’m the mayor of Little Springs.”
    â€œJulia Manning, Washington Herald .” His large hand covered hers. “It’s nice to meet you.”
    He smiled broadly. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
    She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve had enough coffee for today.”
    He blinked, then stammered, “Oh. Okay.” His face flushed again. “I understand. Maybe another time then.”
    She reached out and touched his arm lightly. “I keep saying the wrong thing. What I meant to say was I’ve got a better idea.” She smiled up at him. “Do you know a good place a lady can get a drink?”

 
    Chapter Thirteen
    C ANCINI STOOD OUTSIDE the old bar, staring up at the faded sign. Ernie’s. Same name. Same place. The siding was peeling, and the torn screens on the second floor windows flapped in the light breeze. If it weren’t for the small “Open” sign tacked to the front door, he’d swear the place was deserted, or worse, condemned. Inside, nearly all the stuff on the walls had been there for decades. It was junk mostly, with a few animal heads and rusted metal signs thrown in next to the faded movie posters. All of the memorabilia, even the moose antlers, were covered with a layer of dust, adding to the dingy ambience. Burned-­out bulbs dotted the ceiling, casting an