Well, I wasn’t a sheriff, but I let it go.
“You like bluegrass, boy?”
Truthfully I preferred my grass the usual green. “Haven’t given it much thought.” That seemed a safe enough answer. From the amusement in Jenny’s eyes, I figured I was missing something in this conversation.
“Hamburger plays a mean fiddle. We’ll stick around, let you hear some honest-to-God bluegrass music.” She grinned back at Hamburger Harry when he gave her another one of those gummy smiles. “You up first as usual?”
“Sure am. Got sumpin’ for ya.” He reached into the ratty tote, then narrowed his eyes at me. “Turn around, lawman.”
Oh hell. He had a bagful of moonshine. “Ah…” I scratched my head. “I think I’ll get a beer.” I was going to have to have a talk with the old coot about bringing moonshine into public places, but today wasn’t the time. I’d probably have a riot on my hands if I tried to arrest him, especially since there was a crowd gathering in front of the stage, obviously waiting to hear him since he was first up.
“Get me one, too,” Jenny said.
I waved a hand in acknowledgment as I headed for the beer stand. It wasn’t that I had anything against alcohol of any kind, but moonshine was deemed illegal, and I was duty bound to uphold the law. As I headed back with our beers, I couldn’t help but laugh, remembering my wish that the worst thing I had to do in my new job was arrest moonshiners. That qualified as a “be careful what you ask for.”
By the time I made it back to Jenny, Hamburger Harry, his violin case, and his tote were gone, thank God. I handed Jenny one of the bottles. “Please tell me you don’t have a jar of moonshine in your purse.”
She smirked. “I think this would be a good time to adopt the don’t ask, don’t tell policy.”
I groaned. “You do know I could arrest your pretty ass on the spot, right?”
“Will you handcuff me?”
A picture flashed in my mind of Jenny handcuffed to my bed, and my first groan was nothing compared to this one. I leaned my mouth close to her ear. “Wicked girl.”
“You have no idea.” She stepped in front of me, leaning her head against my chest. “Now pay attention.”
“Yes, honeypot.” She kicked me, making me laugh. I wrapped my arm around her chest, holding her to me.
Hamburger Harry came out onstage, and the crowd went wild. Obviously they’d heard him play before. The moonshiner lifted his fiddle, tucking the end under his chin, and began to play. For an old man he had a lot of energy. The music was fast and twangy, like folk music on steroids.
My attention was drawn to his feet. He wore a pair of scuffed, high-top boots that tied, and he was doing some kind of shuffling fast step. I’d never seen anything like it. Although it wasn’t music I’d want to listen to on a constant basis—the fast pace would wear me out—it was definitely interesting.
Hamburger Harry played for an hour, the crowd growing larger with each passing minute. Pretty impressive for an eighty-three-year-old man.
“Oh, there’s Granny, Hamburger’s mother.” Jenny pointed to an old woman now sitting in the chair Hamburger Harry had occupied earlier.
I blinked at seeing a woman with the craggiest face ever, a corncob pipe stuck between her lips. She had on a print dress that came down to the top of her black, high-top boots. “If Hamburger’s eighty-three, how old is she?”
“Ninety-eight. She was fifteen when he was born. She had six husbands and fourteen more children, but outlived them all except for Hamburger so far. According to her, she’s lived this long from drinking her son’s moonshine.”
Christ, if I arrested Hamburger and put a stop to his moonshining, Granny would die. “I think I’ve had enough of the small-town experience for one day. What say we go to the Cheery Cherry and have an ice cream cone?”
“Yes!” She handed me her unfinished beer. “A Cheerwine float for me… No, a hot fudge sundae. Or maybe a banana split without the bananas.”
From the light in her eyes at the mention of ice cream, I was beginning to realize Jenny Girl had a sweet tooth. I dumped our beer bottles in the recycling can, then took Jenny’s hand.
“A banana split without bananas, Red? That’s just not right.” She peered up at me with those green eyes that sparkled with so much life—as if she wasn’t going to waste a minute not enjoying the world around her—and in the middle of a crowded festival grounds on a warm fall day, I had an epiphany. I wanted to see that kind of light back in my own eyes when I looked in a mirror. There had been a time when I’d thought the world was fun, and I wanted that me back.
“I hate bananas. Can’t stand the smell of them. Can’t stand to watch someone eat them.” She shuddered.
“I happen to like them, but I promise I’ll never make you watch me eat one.”
“You’re my hero,” she said.
Her comment was meant to be flirty and fun, but my dead wife’s last words to me flashed through my mind, mocking me.“You stopped wanting to be my hero, Dylan.”
That had enraged me. My team had been working a case for several months, putting in long hours to bust up a gambling ring that had preyed on elderly men and women who hadn’t had the money to lose in the first place. She knew that because I always talked about my cases with her, unlike some of my cop friends who shut their wives out of what was happening on the job.
