Timeline: 0944, Friday 20th April :: Hapsburg Hotel, Bamptonville.
Flik Donovan’s mood had not improved with the exercise of the walk to the hotel. If anything it had worsened and showed in his demeanour as he roughly pushed open the door to the small, private bar at the Hapsburg Hotel.
Judge Denman leaned on the bar, an oversized ‘Gin and Tonic with a Twist” in front of him. Doctor Finch sat astride a bar stool next to him with a glass of iced tomato juice warming next to his elbow. Both men ceased their conversation to look up abruptly as the sheriff stormed into the room. The judge raised his eyebrows and his nostrils flared.
"So help me I’ve not seen a lawman look so grim faced since I saw that old picture of Allan Pinkerton after learning Jesse James had murdered his man James Whicher. What’s ailing you sheriff? Come and join us.”
Donovan sucked air through his teeth. Tossed his hat skilfully to rest spinning on the hat stand and walked over.
“Morning Judge, Morning Doc.” He stood a pace back from the bar to place himself between the two men and offered no explanation for his mood. Both other men stood looking at him waiting for his reply. It was Adam, the barman who broke their silence.
“What’ll it be sheriff?”
“Coffee…Black”
“A mean drink for a mean man, what gives?” The judge raised his eyebrows a little higher. The Doc sat watching, but said nothing. Donovan growled his reply.
“It’s this damn rumour that’s all over town about this Englishman, … Mitchell being with that boy …”
The judge tapped his finger tips on the bar and interrupted. “ We were just talking about that. I met Mitchell, in here, day after he knocked down that boy. He seemed a nice young feller with the boy’s wellbeing in mind. I wouldn’t want to think that of him. Doc here, don’t believe it either. Tell him Doc.”
The doctor shook his head slightly. “ I think Wes Chandler made a mistake.”
Donovan picked up on this. “But Chandler says he saw them at it, in the Brit’s motel room.”
‘What Wes saw through the gap in the blinds was the boy on not in the bed, with Mitchell attending to his leg. I reckon Wes added two to two and made five out of it all. Mitchell told me he’d be taking care of the ongoing treatment when I patched up young White after the accident. And I do know Mitchell bought a whole parcel of ointment and lint to do the job. Whole lot of hot air about nothing, that’s what I think it is and Wes Chandler seeing things that weren’t there fer him to see.”
The doctor passed his hand in front of his face several times as if waving away the story as nonsense. Donovan was not convinced, and leaned in closer towards the doctor.
“But Wes said he saw the boy with his pants and shorts off, lying bare assed and all luvvie-duvvie in the bed.”
"Be that as it may, it still don’t prove nothing. I still think he was dressing the leg and that’s all. Dammit they only met a coupla days ago.”
“But long enough to get to know each other well enough for the boy to bare his butt in Mitchell’s company. You tell me Doc. Do you need to take someone’s shorts off to fix-up a leg?’
Doc shook his head again, drained his glass. “Depends on the wound. The boy will have contusions all the way up to his butt. You could dress it without him taking off his shorts, but it’s a whole lot easier and cleaner to do with ‘em off. I gotta get going, thanks for the drink judge.”
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The 'Cousins'
General FictionEnglishman Greg Mitchell has served only two Gods in his lifetime- Making Money and Himself. Now at 35 years of age and after his second divorce and loss of his business he faces a future with no family or friends- he does have some money in the ban...
