Coming Home Read Online Free PDF

counter, he said, “Things look kinda quiet.”
    Cleo nodded, her expression a little glum as she rang up the sale and bagged the three shirts. “It's September, Jeb—after the arrival of the welfare checks. Blackberry Harvest's only a memory. School's in session. Rodeo's over.” She brightened. “Of course, once deer season opens, in a couple of days, the place will get lively again.”
    The bell over the door rang and both Cleo and Jeb turned to look. A wiry built man with sandy blond hair stepped inside, saying, “Hey, Cleo, I wanted to talk to you about those socks you …”
    Spying Jeb, the newcomer froze. A tight expression crossed his features, and nodding curtly in Jeb's direction, he said, “Jeb. Didn't know you were in here.” He glanced at Cleo. “I'll come back another time.”
    “No reason,” Cleo said easily, aware of the tension between the two men. “Jeb was just on his way out.” And to emphasize it, she handed Jeb his bag of shirts.
    “Oh, I don't know,” Jeb drawled, taking the bag. “Think I'll go look at those clocks you've got in that case against the wall. Maybe buy one for my kitchen. You go on and help Scott.”
    “That's OK,” Scott muttered, “I'll come by later.” And scooted out the door.
    Cleo glared at Jeb. “I know Milo Scott's a pain in the butt—I'm not fond of him myself—if you'll remember he's the main suspect in the trashing of myplace a while back. Personally I think he's a mean, sneaky, twisted, little weasel—and that's when I'm feeling kindly toward him, but I've got a business to run and he was a customer on a day that has seen few of those—and you, you wretched creature, drove him off.”
    “Oh, lighten up, Cleo, you didn't lose much—he was only going to buy a pair of socks.”
    Cleo snorted. “And how do you know that, Mr. Big Britches? He might have bought a whole dozen.”
    “A lowlife like Scott? Nah.”
    “You know, your prejudice is showing—not an attractive trait for an officer of the law. Aren't you supposed to be objective?”
    Jeb grimaced. “You've got me there. I just can't stand the fellow, Cleo. I know he had something to do with Josh's suicide…or
supposed
suicide …” When Cleo would have interrupted, he raised a hand. “OK, forget about Josh. You know that Scott's connected some way with just about every drug deal that goes down in the county and that he's tight with every hippie-type, and some not so hippie-types, out there growing pot in the backyard—or the national forest.”
    “And if I turned my nose up at every marijuana grower in the area, I wouldn't have much of a business. Come on, Jeb. Most of those guys are harmless and they're only growing it for their own use.” Jeb shot her a look and she shrugged. “All right, so maybe they sell some to him and so maybe he transports it down to the Bay Area. Big deal.”
    “Cleo,” Jeb began patiently—and this was a discussion they'd had many a time—“marijuana is against the law.”
    “Like I said, big deal.”
    Jeb sighed. “That's the sort of attitude that makes enforcement that much harder.” He didn't want to argue with Cleo—half the time he suspected that she was just jerking his chain. Turning away he muttered, “Never mind. And as for your erstwhile customer—don't worry, he'll be back. It's not as if you've lost the sale forever.” Glancing out the double-glass doors, his eyes narrowed as he watched Milo Scott walk across the street to The Blue Goose. “See, he's just going to Hank's place.”
    Cleo followed Jeb's gaze. “And I suppose,” she said dryly, “having driven him away from me, now you're going to go over to Hank's place and lose him a customer.”
    Jeb laughed. “No, I'm not going to The Blue Goose. Scott can enjoy his meal in peace. And when he's done, I'm sure he'll come back and buy the damned socks.”
“Hmm, you know that's a funny thing. I know I ordered them for him, and if I recollect correctly they came in last week, at least