Page 70 of One Vote for Murder
“I agree. It would be rare but not impossible. Heart issues might run in his family.” I’d examined his brother, Pervis, once when he’d had the flu but didn’t recall off the top of my head if they had any heart problems in their bloodline. “If he does have a weak heart, maybe running for sheriff overwhelmed him. He’s probably been under a ton of stress with the election and all.”
Royce grunted. “Haven’t we all been.”
I winced. “Yeah. Don’t you dare keel over. I don’t thinkmyheart could take it.”
“I don’tplanon it.”
“Good.”
“What about that rash around his mouth? He didn’t have that the other day when I saw him.”
I frowned. “That’s one reason I’m leaning toward anaphylactic shock and not a heart condition. Something obviously made his throat and lips swell. Heart issues can cause general swelling and bluing around the lips, but it looks different.”
“God, whatever it is, I really hope he’s okay.”
“Yes. Me too.” I didn’t have a good feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I hoped that was just me being pessimistic.
We stopped in front of a two-story redbrick building with a sign that read The High Chaparral Bar and Grill. Out front was a full-sized statue of a cowboy dressed in chaps, boots, and a big black cowboy hat.
I lifted one brow, taking the statue in. “I’ve never really seen this statue up close. It’s… creepy.”
Royce grinned. “You think so? The kids love it.”
“Well, sure. Kids love mud pies and sticking forks in electrical sockets too. Doesn’t make it right.”
He laughed. “Uh, you have a weird mind, Max.”
“I know.” I sighed.
He put his hand on the small of my back, and he steered me toward the entrance. The High Chaparral was in one of the older buildings in Rainy Dale. Some people even said it was haunted by a young pioneer woman. She supposedly roamed the upper levels of the bar, searching for her lost baby. I’d never seen her, but then again, I’d only been in the bar once before.
“I haven’t been here since my first night in town,” I murmured, noticing with irritation how the sawdust on the floor stuck to my shoes.
“Really?” He smiled. “You came here your first night?”
I sighed. “Rainy Dale was a huge shock to my system. I was in dire need of alcohol, but since I’d just arrived, I had none. I walked into town and happened upon this place. It was the closest, and it was open, so it fit the bill.”
Royce laughed. “You did seem a little rattled when I dropped in to meet you that first day. I can just imagine what the local patrons of this establishment thought of you in your suit and tie.”
“I got a lot of funny looks, that’s for sure.” As we entered the building, I glanced at the bar, where four people were staring at us, craning their necks to get a good look. “I swear those four were here the night I came in.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re regulars.” Royce led us to the corner booth, and a few minutes later, an older man with a short white beard and bald head joined us at the table.
“Welcome, Sheriff.” The older man peered at us under his fluffy white brows. “And welcome to you too, Dr. Thornton.”
“Thanks.” I gave a distracted smile. “Do you have red wine in this establishment?”
“Uh…” The man looked momentarily thrown. “I have those little individual bottles. People don’t come in here for wine usually, so I hate opening a big bottle because it always ends up going bad.”
“Hmmm, those little bottles don’t tend to be very good.” I scrunched my face in distaste. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
The man nodded. “Okay. And for you, Sheriff?”
“You have Stella on tap, right? I’ll have that.” Royce smiled up at the other man. “And how about a big plate of nachos, Henry?”
“Nachos?” I muttered.
Royce nodded. “They make a real good nacho plate here.”
