The Adventures of Slim & Howdy by Bill Fitzhugh, Kix Brooks, Ronnie Dunn Page A

shiny caught his eyes.
    A moment later Tammy felt something tickling her jaw and waved a hand to brush away whatever it was. When she touched it, she got a sinking feeling. She felt the shape of the thing and the hand attached to it. She turned her head slowly, peered over the top of her sunglasses, and saw that waxy smile.
    Boone licked his ruined lips and said, “You two smell like a coupla dang piña coladas.”
    Crystal remained unaware of the situation until Boone reached over and yanked on the string holding her top together. Considering her usual lack of inhibition, she moved with surprising quickness to cover herself as she sat up and said, “Hey!”
    “Shut up,” Boone said. “Where are they?”
    “They who?”
    “They who you got this gun from,” Boone said.
    Crystal looked down at the .32, then suddenly began groping around in the tote bag before she said, “Hey, that’s ours!”
    “Like hell it is,” Boone said.
    Tammy pointed across the courtyard. “We got it outta that trash can,” she said. “Finders keepers.”
    Boone found it hard to believe that Slim’s pal had just thrown the gun away, but he wasn’t going to waste time arguing the point. He said, “I’m gonna ask nice one more time.” He grabbed Tammy’s arm and gave it a mean twist. “Where are they?”
    “Oww!” She tried to jerk away but he had her good. “How am I supposed to know? They said something about auditions in Austin and Nashville, but I think that was just talk.”
    “You think?” He shook his head. “Don’t make me break this little twig of yours.” He twisted harder and looked at Crystal like it was going to be her fault if it happened. “You just gonna let me break your friend’s arm?”
    Crystal figured it wasn’t any skin off her nose, so she said, “Howdy told me they were going to Fort Worth. Some club, looking for work.”
    “What club?”
    Crystal squinted her left eye and said, “Pig on a String or something like that.”
    18
    HOWDY WAS SITTING AT THE BAR THAT MORNING WHEN Skeets showed up. TV was tuned to some bass fishing show, but Howdy wasn’t paying enough attention to even say what sort of lures were working. “I found where you keep the coffee,” Howdy said, raising his cup. “Hope you don’t mind.”
    “Not if it’s still fresh.”
    “Just made it.” Howdy noticed the paper sack Skeets had in his hand. “Whatcha got there?”
    “Breakfast,” Skeets said. “And the latest news.” He put the sack on the bar and tore it open. Some biscuit sausage sandwiches tumbled out. “Help yourself.”
    “Mighty kind,” Howdy said, taking one. “What kind of news did you bring?”
    “The kind that’ll warm your heart,” Skeets said. “I ran into the sheriff a little earlier down at the café where I got these.” He held up one of the biscuit sandwiches and took a bite. “He told me they got a call first thing this morning from some woman said she’d seen a man’s body off the side of Old Agency Road.”
    “Dead?”
    Skeets shook his head. “No, but probably wished he was. One of his deputies drove out there to check and found a man handcuffed to a fence in what I guess you’d have to call an awkward position. Apparently one his legs had gone to sleep. Said it was too tingly to stand on. Anyway, he didn’t have any ID on him, but he told the deputy his name was Dempsey Kimble.”
    “Is that right?” Howdy shook his head as a little smile danced across his face. “Handcuffed to a fence, you say?”
    “Yeah,” Skeet said, casually pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Oh, did I mention that he was buck-ass-naked and covered with bug bites?”
    Howdy just about shot some sausage and biscuit out of his nose. “No, you hadn’t gotten to that part yet,” he said.
    “Well, I guess that part of the story’s important inasmuch as they arrested him for indecent exposure.” Skeets added some cream and sugar, gave it a stir.
    “Makes sense,” Howdy said. “I mean, you can’t