Death Over the Dam (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 2) Read Free Page A

goodbye.
    She had loaded one tray from the buffet with bacon, eggs, grits and biscuits with sawmill gravy for Sam, and another with two ham biscuits—one for herself and one for Sam. She picked up two orange juice cartons as she reached the cash register and asked Ramona Martin for two large coffees. Then she began digging into her purse.
    “If that’s for the sheriff, it’s on the house,” Ramona said. She turned and called out to the restaurant’s one waitress, “Annelle, get me some flatware for the sheriff. I don’t want him eating with a plastic fork after the night he had.”
    “The biscuit’s mine,” Hunter said, “and one of the orange juices and one of the coffees.”
    “That’s your pay for taking the man his breakfast,” Ramona said with a smile.
    Hunter knew better than to argue. Ramona Martin and her husband James had their own approach to being good citizens. Usually that meant giving food away.
    “Thank you,” she said. “Where’s Taneesha this morning? Did she get any sleep?”
    Sgt. Taneesha Martin was Hunter’s friend, Sheriff Sam Bailey’s second-in-command, and Ramona’s niece.
    “She’s on the other side of the river with the worst of it,” Ramona said. “She called me way early this morning and said Sam put her in charge over there once he knew the river bridges were going to flood. She was going to try to get a little sleep and a shower over at her grandmother’s house. You know ‘Neesha. She probably slept two hours and got up to iron the creases back into her slacks.”
    “Hunter, you want a good picture?” the waitress called out as Hunter headed for the door. “My Billy said Sonny Willcox and Little Sonny are out in a boat picking up dogs. That old man they got running the animal shelter just let all the dogs and cats loose last night when he saw how fast the water was coming up and now they’re out there rounding up the dogs. About seven of them were on the roof, and some others got up on this old trailer. “
    “What about the cats?” Hunter asked. “Are they picking up the cats, too?”
    “Cats can climb trees,” Ramona interrupted, “Now you go on and take that man his breakfast.”
    Sam’s secretary, Shellie Carstairs, who was usually “dressed for success” with plenty of jewelry and makeup, had come to work in jeans and an oversized Georgia Bulldogs t-shirt, looking as if she had just scrubbed her face before rushing out the door.
    “I would have brought you some breakfast if I had known you were here…” Hunter began.
    “I’ve had half a box of Krispy Kremes, already,” Shellie said. “It’s that man in there who needs the real food.”
    Sheriff Sam Bailey was in his office, feet on his desk, listening to someone on the phone. He looked exhausted but managed a smile as Hunter came in. He pointed at the phone and rolled his eyes upward. Hunter knew somebody was wasting his time.
    “Commissioner,” Sam said abruptly, “We’re not going to know the half of how awful it is until the water goes back down. We’re talking millions just to get the roads and bridges fixed, and we’ve got a whole bunch of poor people without any flood insurance who are going to have to find places to live, and..” he stopped as Hunter opened the tray and the smell of bacon filled the room. “Look, I got to go. But take it from me. You may not be able to get across town right now, but don’t go telling the governor Merchantsville is the disaster. The disaster is in Cathay and all over the other side of the river.”
    Hunter unwrapped the flatware for him, and then massaged his shoulders as he wound up his conversation with “I gotta go.”
    “Which one was that?” Hunter asked after he hung up.
    “Jaybird Hilliard, of course. He wants to call the governor and he wants to know what he’s talking about. If he wanted to be an authority on the flood, he could have come out and helped us in the middle of the night.”
    “How bad is it?” Hunter