Another Man's Ground--A Mystery, page 28
Supporters at the Branson Country Eatery were high-fiving one another and cheering. There weren’t a whole lot of people but it was a respectable turnout that included many of the campaign’s volunteers. Lovinia gave him a hearty handshake, and said she had brand-new batteries for her police scanner and was all ready for his first full term in office. Dan Larkson asked about Lloyd Taylor’s potential prison term and walked away smiling at the high number Hank gave him. Darcy, both giddy and tipsy, gave him a big hug and then proceeded to take a marker and start drawing a cowboy hat on the picture of him adorning a campaign poster.
He decided he did not need to see how that came out and headed through the scatter of tables. His elderly neighbor stopped him.
“Hello, Mrs. Crawford,” he said. “How are—”
“Is Duncan here? I thought that he would be…” She turned in a circle, eyeing every corner of the restaurant. “I just put ‘Ring of Fire’ on the jukebox.”
Hank explained that Dunc had stayed home with the kids. She scowled. “That’s the second person who shoulda been somewhere today and wasn’t.”
Hank, halfway through his beer, decided to humor her. “How’s that, ma’am?”
She put her hands on her sizable hips. “Well, I stopped by church this morning. To see Father Tony. He always appreciates my advice on the weekly church bulletin, you see. And he wasn’t there. Teresa—she’s the church secretary—told me that he had borrowed some parishioner’s van and was taking a road trip to Chicago. Can you imagine? Who does that?”
She stomped off toward the bar, shaking her head in bewilderment. Hank stared down into his beer and fought back a smile. He wondered if the priest had packed sandwiches for the ride.
He made his way to a quiet corner and scanned the room. Campaign volunteers, a few of Maggie’s colleagues from the hospital, a couple of Kiwanis friends of Duncan’s. And no deputies. Not a single one. He wasn’t surprised, he supposed. In a way, it was good to know. The county might have voted him the new boss, but that didn’t mean the department necessarily agreed. The days of watching his back weren’t over.
At least he had Sheila and Sam. Ah, Sammy. Now there was one person he was glad didn’t come. He hadn’t talked to the kid since they’d finished processing the crime scene at the Miles property early Saturday. He was still a mess—a volcanic mix of anguish, guilt, and rage that Hank didn’t know how to fix. So he’d ordered Sam to take a week off. That had been met with heated protests that stopped only when Hank threatened to call his mother. He hoped the time would allow the Pup to start healing. It was going to be a slow process, though, just like for Ted—who was now in stable condition but wouldn’t be fully healed for God knew how long.
He gave himself a mental shake and moved to rejoin the party. He needed to act like the happy winner. Smile, nod, shake hands. Repeat.
He was doing pretty well and was thinking about getting another beer when there was a stir by the entrance. He turned away from the window to see Darrell Gibbons glad-handing his way into the restaurant. He did not move forward to greet him.
Darrell took a good ten minutes to mosey over to Hank. He was wearing his usual bolo tie and had dressed it up with a Western-cut sport coat. Hank did not appreciate the gesture. Or the slap on the back. Gibbons did it twice, turned to point and nod at someone by the bar, and then finally looked Hank full in the face.
“Congratulations, Worth. You have prevailed. I’m glad my endorsement helped you out.”
He stood there with a patient smile. Hank desperately wanted to give him what he deserved, and it wasn’t a thank-you. He pasted Gibbons’s tolerant look on his own face.
“And I’m fully confident, Darrell, that you will support me, in public and behind the scenes, as I serve my term.”
Gibbons’s face didn’t move a muscle, but a glint flashed in his eyes, as if he’d just taken up a challenge. Well then, game on, you bolo-tied bastard.
Hank stepped away and turned toward a group of people in the middle of the dining room. He accepted a few more congratulations and then slipped out the back door into the quiet rear parking lot and called Sheila.
“Yes?”
He heard a snippet of the same Springfield news show in the background before it went silent. She said yes again.
He cleared his throat.
“I just wanted to tell you that now that I have the authority, I want to make you my permanent chief deputy. If you’ll take the job.”
Silence. Then what he thought might have been a sniffle. Or not.
“All right,” she said. “I accept. I will see you at work in the morning.”
He agreed and said good night. And he was positive—almost—that the sound he heard as he hung up was a sigh of relief.
He put the phone in his pocket and turned back toward the restaurant. Maggie stood there against the wall. She smiled.
“I wondered where you’d gone. Little peace and quiet?”
He nodded and pulled her into his arms.
“Thank you, babe. For everything.” He kissed her.
She pulled back and looked at him with that twinkle that made his knees weak.
“I’m proud of you, honey. I know this wasn’t easy for you, but you did it.” She ran her hand through his hair. “You need another haircut.”
“No way,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I won. I don’t have to get another haircut for four more years.”
She burst out laughing, kissed him hard, and led him back inside, where his constituents awaited.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people who helped bring this book to life. My agent, Jim McCarthy, and my editor, Elizabeth Lacks, continue to provide wonderful advice and feedback, and Shailyn Tavella is a true help with publicity. David Rotstein’s second Hank Worth cover design is as beautiful as his first. Once again, I was lucky to have the keen critiques of Kristi Belcamino, Bridget Gray, and Paige Kneeland, as well as the continued support and counsel of Claudia and Mike Brown. I relied on the expertise of Zachary Heyde, Tommy Gray, Brian Hall, and Kathleen Ryan, whose generously shared knowledge of several different subjects helped me enormously.
I also want to thank my family and friends for their enthusiastic support and willingness to drive long distances to get to book signings. I appreciate it more than you know.
To my husband and children, you bring joy to everything I do. Thank you.
ALSO BY CLAIRE BOOTH
The Branson Beauty
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CLAIRE BOOTH is a former true-crime writer, ghostwriter, and reporter. She lives in California. Another Man’s Ground is her second novel, following The Branson Beauty. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Acknowledgments
Also by Claire Booth
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ANOTHER MAN’S GROUND. Copyright © 2017 by Claire Booth. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover illustration by Maurizio Quarello
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-08441-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-8442-2 (ebook)
e-ISBN 978125084422
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: July 2017
Claire Booth, Another Man's Ground--A Mystery
Thank you for reading books on ReadFrom.Net
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He decided he did not need to see how that came out and headed through the scatter of tables. His elderly neighbor stopped him.
“Hello, Mrs. Crawford,” he said. “How are—”
“Is Duncan here? I thought that he would be…” She turned in a circle, eyeing every corner of the restaurant. “I just put ‘Ring of Fire’ on the jukebox.”
Hank explained that Dunc had stayed home with the kids. She scowled. “That’s the second person who shoulda been somewhere today and wasn’t.”
Hank, halfway through his beer, decided to humor her. “How’s that, ma’am?”
She put her hands on her sizable hips. “Well, I stopped by church this morning. To see Father Tony. He always appreciates my advice on the weekly church bulletin, you see. And he wasn’t there. Teresa—she’s the church secretary—told me that he had borrowed some parishioner’s van and was taking a road trip to Chicago. Can you imagine? Who does that?”
She stomped off toward the bar, shaking her head in bewilderment. Hank stared down into his beer and fought back a smile. He wondered if the priest had packed sandwiches for the ride.
He made his way to a quiet corner and scanned the room. Campaign volunteers, a few of Maggie’s colleagues from the hospital, a couple of Kiwanis friends of Duncan’s. And no deputies. Not a single one. He wasn’t surprised, he supposed. In a way, it was good to know. The county might have voted him the new boss, but that didn’t mean the department necessarily agreed. The days of watching his back weren’t over.
At least he had Sheila and Sam. Ah, Sammy. Now there was one person he was glad didn’t come. He hadn’t talked to the kid since they’d finished processing the crime scene at the Miles property early Saturday. He was still a mess—a volcanic mix of anguish, guilt, and rage that Hank didn’t know how to fix. So he’d ordered Sam to take a week off. That had been met with heated protests that stopped only when Hank threatened to call his mother. He hoped the time would allow the Pup to start healing. It was going to be a slow process, though, just like for Ted—who was now in stable condition but wouldn’t be fully healed for God knew how long.
He gave himself a mental shake and moved to rejoin the party. He needed to act like the happy winner. Smile, nod, shake hands. Repeat.
He was doing pretty well and was thinking about getting another beer when there was a stir by the entrance. He turned away from the window to see Darrell Gibbons glad-handing his way into the restaurant. He did not move forward to greet him.
Darrell took a good ten minutes to mosey over to Hank. He was wearing his usual bolo tie and had dressed it up with a Western-cut sport coat. Hank did not appreciate the gesture. Or the slap on the back. Gibbons did it twice, turned to point and nod at someone by the bar, and then finally looked Hank full in the face.
“Congratulations, Worth. You have prevailed. I’m glad my endorsement helped you out.”
He stood there with a patient smile. Hank desperately wanted to give him what he deserved, and it wasn’t a thank-you. He pasted Gibbons’s tolerant look on his own face.
“And I’m fully confident, Darrell, that you will support me, in public and behind the scenes, as I serve my term.”
Gibbons’s face didn’t move a muscle, but a glint flashed in his eyes, as if he’d just taken up a challenge. Well then, game on, you bolo-tied bastard.
Hank stepped away and turned toward a group of people in the middle of the dining room. He accepted a few more congratulations and then slipped out the back door into the quiet rear parking lot and called Sheila.
“Yes?”
He heard a snippet of the same Springfield news show in the background before it went silent. She said yes again.
He cleared his throat.
“I just wanted to tell you that now that I have the authority, I want to make you my permanent chief deputy. If you’ll take the job.”
Silence. Then what he thought might have been a sniffle. Or not.
“All right,” she said. “I accept. I will see you at work in the morning.”
He agreed and said good night. And he was positive—almost—that the sound he heard as he hung up was a sigh of relief.
He put the phone in his pocket and turned back toward the restaurant. Maggie stood there against the wall. She smiled.
“I wondered where you’d gone. Little peace and quiet?”
He nodded and pulled her into his arms.
“Thank you, babe. For everything.” He kissed her.
She pulled back and looked at him with that twinkle that made his knees weak.
“I’m proud of you, honey. I know this wasn’t easy for you, but you did it.” She ran her hand through his hair. “You need another haircut.”
“No way,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I won. I don’t have to get another haircut for four more years.”
She burst out laughing, kissed him hard, and led him back inside, where his constituents awaited.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people who helped bring this book to life. My agent, Jim McCarthy, and my editor, Elizabeth Lacks, continue to provide wonderful advice and feedback, and Shailyn Tavella is a true help with publicity. David Rotstein’s second Hank Worth cover design is as beautiful as his first. Once again, I was lucky to have the keen critiques of Kristi Belcamino, Bridget Gray, and Paige Kneeland, as well as the continued support and counsel of Claudia and Mike Brown. I relied on the expertise of Zachary Heyde, Tommy Gray, Brian Hall, and Kathleen Ryan, whose generously shared knowledge of several different subjects helped me enormously.
I also want to thank my family and friends for their enthusiastic support and willingness to drive long distances to get to book signings. I appreciate it more than you know.
To my husband and children, you bring joy to everything I do. Thank you.
ALSO BY CLAIRE BOOTH
The Branson Beauty
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CLAIRE BOOTH is a former true-crime writer, ghostwriter, and reporter. She lives in California. Another Man’s Ground is her second novel, following The Branson Beauty. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Acknowledgments
Also by Claire Booth
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ANOTHER MAN’S GROUND. Copyright © 2017 by Claire Booth. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover illustration by Maurizio Quarello
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-08441-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-8442-2 (ebook)
e-ISBN 978125084422
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: July 2017
Claire Booth, Another Man's Ground--A Mystery
