Read The Branson Beauty Online
Authors: Claire Booth
The Branson Beauty (33 page)
Great. Hank knew he had to take it. He forced himself into what he hoped was the same state of relaxed nonchalance as Gibbons and did so. His arm was killing him. Gibbons came around the desk and slapped him on the back as he headed for the door.
“Oh, and good luck, son, on that murder. Those things can be tricky. Devil's own handiwork. They take time to solve, so don't go getting discouraged.”
“Oh, that.” Hank's nonchalance was flowing easily now. He put down his coffee cup. “I closed that.”
Gibbons turned around and faced Hank again. “What?”
“Yeah. Taped confession. Walked me through how he did it. The whole deal.”
Gibbons just stared at him. Hank reached around and grabbed the door, then gave the distinguished state senator a slap on the shoulder. “You take care now.”
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
He pulled up to the house just in time for dinner. Thank God he wouldn't miss another one. He opened the door in from the mudroom and was met with clapping and shrieks of laughter from down toward the bedrooms. Dunc was at the stove, cutting into what appeared to be another kind of casserole.
“What's going on?” Hank asked.
“Oh. They're playing withâwell, you'll see.” Dunc pointed toward the living room with his spatula.
Hank grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and walked out into the living room. The TV was turned on to the local news, but he couldn't hear it over the commotion Maribel and Benny were making. They came bounding into the room and skidded to a stop when they saw him. Benny threw himself at Hank, shouting, “Og!”
“What are you two talking about?” He bent down to pick up Benny and stopped short. Racing down the hallway toward him was a dog. A squat sausage of a thing, with a very small head, a misaligned jaw, and mismatched ears. Its tongue lolled out to the side as it stopped next to Maribel and sat down. Hank recognized it immediately.
“What the hell is that thing doing in my house?”
Maribel just started clapping and jumping up and down. Benny wrenched away and toddled over to stick his face next to its muzzle.
“Noâstop. Benny, get away. It's going to biteâ” He grabbed his son and spun toward the kitchen. “Duncan!”
Dunc appeared in the doorway, still holding the spatula. He folded his arms.
“Yeah, that's right. We got a dog from the animal shelter. This afternoon, after lunch. After you ran out on us, and Maggie stood us up altogether. I decided they deserved a little love and companionship. So there.”
Hank sputtered. He could think of nothing to say, or at least nothing that would be suitable in front of his children. “You ⦠you had no right to do that without talking to us first. How dare⦔
“I live here, too,” Dunc said, waving the spatula at him. “And I'm the one who's around all day, so what do you care?”
Hank pointed helplessly at the thing, which had flipped over onto its back and was wiggling in delight as Maribel scratched its belly. “But that? That thing? Why on earth did you pick that one?”
“Well, now, that's a funny story. They couldn't decide, see. Maribel wanted one with cropped ears and Benny wanted one with floppy earsâ”
Benny put his hands up to his own ears and flapped them enthusiastically. Then Maribel chimed in. “So we con-prized, Daddy.”
“You what?” Hank asked.
“They compromised,” Dunc said. “One ear's up, one ear's down.”
“You always say me and Benny need to con-prize,” Maribel said. “You proud of us?”
Hank looked at his kids, who now sat on either side of the devil-dog he'd returned to that fed-up owner earlier in the week. They beamed up at him. He could feel them vibrating with joy from three feet away. They looked up at him and waited. And he knew he couldn't create another crack. Their childhood was going to be filled with enough of them as they all went along. He couldn't add more just because they'd chosen possibly the worst pet in the history of the world. He knelt down.
“We can keep him.”
He was tackled by all three of them. His kids laughed with glee, and the dog managed to lick both Hank's hands and his face while digging his claws into his stomach. He bit back a yell of pain as Benny sat on his bad arm. He struggled to sit up and asked, “So, what are we going to name him?”
“Oh, we know already,” Maribel said. “I said he's pretty, but Benny said he's a boyâ”
Benny shouted, “Boy! Not girl!”
“âso we call him handsome.
Guapo
. That's what Grandpop said is Spanish for handsome. Is he right, Daddy? He's not so good on the Spanish.”
Hank laughed. That was sure true. But Dunc had gotten it right this time. He looked at the dog, who was now sitting in his lap. Everything else about the mutt was contradictory, so why not?
“Guapo it is,” he said.
He started to shove Guapo the Dog off his lap when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edrick Fizzel pop up on the TV screen. He froze. “Quiet,” he said, in the even, low tone he seldom used that everyone in the house knew meant instant obedience. No one moved.
“⦠extremely pleased to announce that the county of Branson has caught Mandy Bryson's killer. Our entire community worked tirelessly to bring this murderer to justice. The county commission wants everyone watching to know that we hold the safety of our citizens and guests as our highest priority. I, Commissioner Edrick Fizzel, will continue to make sure that this killer's court case is handled properly. We will lock him up and throw away the key. Thank you.”
Hank stared at the screen as it went to commercial. He patted Guapo on the head. He didn't know what else to do. Throwing a chair out the window didn't seem wise.
“I didn't know you'd arrested somebody.”
Maggie came into view and stared down at him. Her look changed from congratulatory to concerned as she saw his expression. “Babeâ¦?”
“No one knew. That I'd arrested someone. No one who would leak it ⦠except⦔ He patted Guapo again.
“You haven't announced it?” she asked.
“No. I. Have. Not.” Pat.
“Who leaked it?”
“Darrell Gibbons.”
“Why would he do that?” she asked. “Oh⦔
“Yeah. Gave the glory to his man Fizzel.” He looked up at his wife. “I got to admit, it was a good play. Totally one-upped me.”
“So he's playing politics?”
“He's trying to put me in my place. Show me that he still runs things. That I need to take his suggestions.”
Maggie cocked an eyebrow. “Well, then, he doesn't know much about you.”
Hank gave her a weary smile. “No, he doesn't. But I guess I don't know much about Branson politics. I'm going to learn, though. You can bet on that.”
She reached down and ran her hand through his hair, stopping halfway.
“Wait a minute. What the hell is in your lap?”
Guapo, who had been amazingly still, looked up and saw an exciting stranger. He struggled to get his stubby legs underneath him while his tail started whirling like a boat propeller. He desperately wanted to sniff this new person. Hank started to lift him off his legs.
“Meet the newest member of the family. He might actually not be that bad.”
And then Guapo piddled in his lap.
Fantastic.
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CLAIRE BOOTH
is a former true-crime writer, ghostwriter, and reporter. She lives in California.
The Branson Beauty
is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates
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Contents
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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.
THE BRANSON BEAUTY
. Copyright © 2016 by Claire Booth. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Cover illustration by Mauritzio Quarello
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Booth, Claire, author.
Title: The Branson beauty / Claire Booth.
Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2016. | Series: Sheriff Hank Worth mysteries; 1
Identifiers: LCCN 2016001429 | ISBN 9781250084385 (hardback) | ISBN 9781250084392 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Rescue workâFiction. | MurderâInvestigationâFiction. | Branson (Mo.)âFiction. | Mystery fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Traditional British. | FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Police Procedural.
Classification: LCC PS3602.O663 B73 2016 | DDC 813/.6âdc23
LC record available at
http://lccn.loc.gov/2016001429
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First Edition: July 2016