"8 Minutes to Sunday" Episode 14, The Mystery of Dalton West Book 2

Today on 8 Minutes to Sunday, the one armed man escapes Dalton and he meets the Crow Lady.

I turned in time to see the one armed man duck out the back. Fred and I hurried out the front in time to see tail lights pulling onto the road. I ran to my truck. A big Dodge Ram had me boxed in. Ty. I pounded the steering wheel. Dammit. Who was that guy and what did he want? Why was Ty covering for him.

8 Minutes to Sunday, Episode One

Fred waited in the truck while I went back inside.

“Ty Crawford,” I said.

I was louder than I intended. The bar got quiet. Ty turned on his barstool, put his elbows back on the bar and tipped his beer for a long drink. He wiped his mouth.

“Yes sir, sheriff,” he said. “How can I help you?”

I wasn’t going to make any more of a scene than necessary. I hadn’t meant to include everyone in the room.

“Could you move your truck please?” I asked.

“Sure, soon as I finish my beer,” Ty said.

He spun his stool around with his back to me and said something to the guy next to him. The guy next to him looked at me. I walked to the bar.

“You’re parked illegally. So, while you’re finishing your beer, I’ll be searching your vehicle. I can do that,” I said.

He sighed. Checkmate. He got up and walked out. I stayed inside until Ty came back and passed him on the way. I didn’t need a fight in the parking lot. I might not win.

“Did you see the vehicle that guy was driving?” I asked.

“Farm truck of some sort,” Fred said. “Light color, white, or maybe light yellow or gray? Hard to tell.”

I started the truck and drove back into town.

“Well, you’re a step ahead,” Fred said.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“You have witnesses that there actually is a one-armed man involved,” he said.
He smirked.

“Wait, was that a joke?” I asked.

“You’ve never seen The Fugitive?” he asked.

“Not that I’d remember,” I said.

He sighed.

“Some days it feels like I’ve outlived my shelf life,” he said.

“Don’t feel too bad, I also don’t remember getting married, so…” I said.

I dropped Fred at his car and went to Earl’s. I needed a cup of coffee and I still hadn’t really sat still long enough to think this through. I order pie and coffee, black. I sat at the counter to eat and think.

The picture was bugging me. First, because it felt so helpless not to remember something that big. Second, because I just couldn’t think about anything else. But the biggest reason was Leeanne. For the first time in nine months, my life meant something. I wanted to be home with her and DJ right now, without anything in the way.

The soda counter had a long mirror running along its back. I looked at my reflection. The guy in the mirror looked beat. Even the girl in the corner booth watching him looked sorry for him. Wait. That was the girl who fed crows. She looked away.

Why was she watching me? Had she been there when I came in? She’d shown up the day after the envelope. What if the two were connected? I studied her reflection. She felt really familiar. I needed to find out why. But not in here. I’d made the mistake of making my trouble public at Boots’ place already tonight.

I got up from the counter and paid my tab. I went toward the restroom in the back. Then, I ducked into the kitchen door.

“Evening, Earl,” I said.

Earl owned the place and cooked every meal himself.

“Sheriff,” he said.

“Back door?” I asked.

“Over there,” he said.

He pointed to a corner. I found it and went out, staying close to the side of the building, away from where I’d parked. I waited. She came almost right away.

“Hey,” I said.

She jumped. She’d been looking back over her shoulder, not expecting me where I was.

“Oh, I didn’t think, I mean, I didn’t see you there,” she said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” I said.

It was a lie.

“So, seen you around town the last couple of days. Been here three months, haven’t seen you before,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been traveling, I guess,” she said.

I reminded myself I was the sheriff, she hadn’t done anything that I knew of. I had to be careful how much I prodded.

“Sure,” I said. “That was me when I came here. Place has a way of sucking you in.”

“Sure,” she said. “Seems like a nice place.”

“I’m Dalton West,” I said.

I put out my hand. She took it, soft and timid.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She froze. She looked panicked. She was going to lie. “Earl, uh, sorry. Last name is Earl, Sally Earl.”

She closed her eyes, kicking herself for the sloppy alias. She’d just walked out of Earl’s, and Sally was the blonde second grade teacher, who waited tables nights for Earl. It said so on her name tag.

Busted.

If you haven't read the first Dalton West mystery, find the links here.

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