Chapter 5: An In-Man
466 Words
Chapter 5: An In-Man
I had dinner plans with Cissy and her twin boys, Calin and Calvin, who were six-years-old and adorably bad.
Cissy Boxford-Jump lived on Stage Street near the elementary school. She and Renner, her husband of seven years, owned a three-bedroom ranch and shared a Ram T150. Renner worked for the county as a bondsman and Cissy labored as an account manager at Colt Branding. Both were happy in their marriage, suitable for each other, and pleasant to be around.
Tall, dark, and handsome Renner was out with one of his buddies at the Stockton Casino. Renner didn’t have a problem gambling, but he was lucky and seemed to win eighty percent of the time he went. His gambling escapades away from Stage Street allotted me some special time with my older sister. Sissy was thirty-four, blond, blue-eyed, and a firecracker. And she put some masculine cowboys to shame because of her wits.
Dinner with my sis consisted of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and homegrown carrots. The boys ate in front of the Cartoon Network while Cissy and I shared our meals on her rear screened-in patio that overlooked a sullen and dry pasture.
I had just finished telling her my plans to hire Tal Linear regarding the Sting case when she looked me dead in the eyes and stated, “You’re only trying to seduce that young man. You’ve never needed help with a case and never will. Shame on you, Joseph Boxford. I know you like him, but this isn’t the way to pick him up. If you want to find a guy to sleep with, go have a club soda at The Tin Box. A few cowboys there wouldn’t mind at all getting to know you.”
I sipped my Diet Coke, wiped my mouth with an available napkin, and said, “You’re wrong. I do need help. Tal knows the Stings. I need an in-man. What have you read about the Sting boy in the West Stockton Caller? Nothing. Nothing at all. That tells me that Sheriff Lord hit a dead end after six months and doesn’t have any new information, leads, or whatnots pertaining to the case.”
She wasn’t hearing anything from me. Cissy enjoyed arguing with me ever since we were kids. Our conflicts were sometimes brutal, bloody, and boisterous. But in the end, something was always valued from them, and a positive outcome occurred. How that happened, I never knew, and never would.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said, holding a slab of meatloaf on her fork, getting ready to slide the beef inside her mouth, savoring its pepper and salsa taste. “Tal isn’t going to help you. He’ll show up at your office first thing in the morning and tell you he’s not available. Any sane man would. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
“We will indeed,” she replied, winked at me, shoveled meatloaf into her trap, obviously enjoying my company, as usual.
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