Jim-Billy pulled his head out of my fridge, looked at me, gave me a broken smile and said in a way like he was reminding me of something I knew but, of course, I didn’t, “Thanks for the invite, girl. Like any time I can get my beer without payin’ for it.”
“Right, like you pay your tab,” Krystal muttered loudly, crossing her arms on her ample bosom and rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
Jim-Billy closed the door on the fridge (with a beer in his hand, incidentally), and turned to Krystal.
“I do,” he said.
“Yeah, once a year,” she shot back.
“Well, I still do,” Jim-Billy returned.
“And you expect a discount,” she retorted.
“Anyone would, seein’ as I order in bulk.”
I giggled.
“We’re done here, Mrs. Walker,” Gifford called to me, Officer Frank and Keaton were already standing with him at the backdoor. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
“Lexie,” I told him, moving toward the kitchen.
“You are not f**kin’ done,” Fuller snapped and I stopped moving.
Gifford looked to him and asked, “Your boys said all’s good and I didn’t find anything.”
“Gifford,” Fuller clipped, throwing out an arm, “there’s alcohol right in front of your face.”
“That’s not a condition of Walker’s parole,” Gifford returned and Fuller’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?” he bit out.
“Tyrell Walker, even after repeated tests on remand and during his incarceration, never tested positive for drugs or alcohol. He has no history of problems with either or evidence of use of the former. Alcohol is only prohibited for those parolees who have an addiction or past incidents where alcohol was a factor.”
Fuller’s lips twisted, he leaned slightly to Gifford and clipped, “That’s bullshit.”
“It isn’t,” Gifford returned with restrained patience.
“Never heard of a parolee allowed to have alcohol,” Fuller retorted.
“Lucky for you this is not a highly populated county like Denver and lucky for you your patch is even smaller so you don’t have a lot of experience but it isn’t unheard of for a parolee to be allowed alcohol and Tyrell Walker is one of them. He was a model prisoner, he earned benefits due to good behavior, his parole was recommended by the warden, his rehabilitation counselor and the guards and I personally inspected this home for its suitability for his occupation prior to his release. All was in order then, as I told you before your visit to my office this morning, and you have two of your own boys here, as requested, and it’s all in order now. So we’re done and we’re leaving,” Gifford replied.
“Then maybe I will have a look around,” Fuller shot back, Gifford’s back shot straight and the entire room went on hyper-alert.
But it was Tate who spoke and all he said was, “Arnie.”
Fuller’s eyes cut to him and he snapped, “What?”
Tate didn’t reply; he just held Fuller’s eyes. They went into stare down and I again found myself holding my breath.
Then the garage door could be heard cranking up.
My eyes flashed to the microwave clock.
Ty was home.
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or pissed this wasn’t done before he got home.
What I did know was that I didn’t want my husband to be forced to share Arnold Fuller’s air. What I also knew, unfortunately, was that I had no choice in that matter.