Firebreak: A Mystery by Tricia Fields Page B

rarely ate bread with his meat, preferring to allow the taste of the meat to dominate. The idea of mixing chicken into a salad did not appeal to him in the least.
    “I thought we’d stop by my house and pick it up, then take it out to your place. Maybe you could show me around the ranch after lunch.”
    He nodded, and looked over at the smiling woman sitting next to him. She was beautiful and kind, and for some odd reason she wanted to spend time with him. But he was rapidly losing control of his life.
    “You know, it would be nice to invite Father Paul out to have lunch with us. He’s young and new to town. He doesn’t get out much.”
    He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
    “We’ll have him out to dinner another night,” she said. “Let’s just enjoy the day at your ranch together.”

 
    EIGHT
    Angela Stamos had been bartending at the Hell-Bent for as long as Josie could remember. Her heavy-lidded eyes and permanent smirk said she’d seen it all. Angela was in her early fifties, with auburn hair cut in a stylish pixie that framed her round face. She wore round wire-rim glasses with purple-shaded lenses. Angela was a striking woman with a reputation that kept the men at bay. For the most part, they treated her with a degree of respect that some of the other, younger women at the Hell-Bent didn’t get. Josie wondered if bartending for so many years had tarnished her opinion of men.
    Last Josie had heard, Angela was single, but when Josie parked her car in front of the bartender’s home she saw a man standing on the side deck flipping hamburgers on a small charcoal grill. He turned slightly and waved, giving Josie a long stare, but he stayed where he was.
    The house was a small brown adobe with deep-set window wells and a front porch over which the roof extended by eight feet along the front of the house. Two wooden rocking chairs sat on the front porch with a small table in between them. The table held an ashtray filled with cigarettes and two empty martini glasses. A small yard was landscaped with native plants like prickly pear, agave, and yucca. It was a comfortable, attractive home and it fit Josie’s image of Angela.
    Angela opened the front door and stepped outside before Josie reached the porch. Her face was pinched with worry, not the expression of the laid-back bartender Josie was accustomed to.
    “Hi, Angela. Sorry to stop by without calling ahead.”
    Angela nodded. “No problem. Something wrong?”
    “We’re working on an investigation and I need to ask you some questions.”
    “Is this about Buddy?”
    Josie recognized the name and remembered he was her brother, a perpetual troublemaker. “No. This doesn’t have anything to do with your family. I have some questions about work last night.”
    She sighed, visibly relieved, and motioned for Josie to sit in one of the rocking chairs. Angela wore jean shorts that didn’t cover much more than her underwear, a tight T-shirt and cowboy boots, and a necklace made of rattles from a rattlesnake that hung down her chest.
    “Sorry. I haven’t heard from the peckerhead since the evacuation yesterday. He was supposed to go to my parents’ house in Houston, but he never showed up.” She seemed to notice Josie’s concerned look and waved a hand in the air. “No worry. Buddy’s a jackass. He doesn’t follow through with anything. He worries my parents sick.” She sat down in the chair, picked a pack of cigarettes off the table, and lit one. She held the pack toward Josie.
    “No, thanks. We’re trying to put together a timeline of events that took place yesterday evening, and I hope you can help me with some details.”
    “This have to do with the fire?”
    “We’re not sure yet. Why don’t you start by taking me through your day yesterday? What time you came on shift, went to lunch, and so on.”
    Angela squinted at Josie through her purple glasses. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?”
    “I assure you, you’re not in any trouble at