Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 47

On the whole, Colt had to admit that this was probably a more valuable opportunity than just about anything he could have possibly hoped for; but still, he found it profoundly difficult to trust the seemingly friendly disposition of these men. That may have just been the sickeningly pleasant nature of small townspeople shining through, but he had to doubt it. Orden's sheriff had just been murdered. This wasn't just any small town, right now.

And he was beginning to wonder if it ever was.

"Couple o' cutie pies ya got here," said Davinworth. He was poking at them from afar with a white-gloved index finger, as if he were standing right there in front of them.

It was a harmless gesture, Colt supposed, but he still wanted to tell the guy to cut it the fuck out. If the man had taken a few steps closer, Colt honestly might've. "Thanks," he said. "But I should really be getting them back home soon. Like I said, I wasn't planning on staying here long."

Davinworth waved a younger man over, whispered something to him, then pushed him toward Colt like some sort of offering. "Any supplies you need, just say the word and my man Kevin here will fetch them for you."

Colt's stony face grew stonier, and he said nothing.

"Don't worry," said Davinworth. "He has experience in caring for children. He's looked after my grandkids many a time. Isn't that right, Kevin?"

"Yes, Mr. Davinworth."

And the older man's smile broadened.

"...You buyin'?" said Colt.

"Of course," said Davinworth. "You think I'd charge you for my own imposition? The thought alone hurts me."

"You're very insistent, y'know that?" said Colt.

Davinworth chortled. "Guilty as charged. I have grown quite accustomed to having things my way. I hope you won't begrudge me that. My wife already has that avenue covered, I assure you."

Heh.

Well. Okay. His alarm bells were still going off--as they almost always were--but this was actually a fantastic offer. Colt's funds were limited, and if he could get his hands on some free diapers, then he was honestly inclined to to agree to just about anything.

"...Got a pen and paper?" said Colt.

Kevin whipped out a phone and an accompanying stylus.

Right. Money.

Colt rattled off a few items and resisted the urge to turn it into a full blown shopping list. Davinworth was obviously going out of his way to be courteous for some reason, but Colt still didn't think it wise to take advantage too much.

Kevin scurried off, and then they proceeded farther into the facility. The branching path that they took through the main building was clearly for VIPs, and it only seemed to grow fancier as they walked. They passed through a large bar and dining area with almost no one else around, then arrived at a long line of golf carts.

Between the five of them and the stroller for the twins, they ended up needing three carts total. The stroller fit surprisingly snugly into the back Colt's cart, and he was able to fasten it with cords that were probably meant to be used on clubs. It seemed pretty safe, but he pulled the twins out anyway in order to carry them in his arms. He especially didn't want to risk Thomas crawling out on his own and falling of the cart.

Phillip Richardson drove the cart while Colt sat in the passenger seat, and the man struck up a conversation while they were en route to the first hole.

"I must admit, I have also been a bit curious to meet you."

Instead of asking the obvious question of why, Colt just cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I have heard that you used to work in private security. Any truth to that?"

"Where'd you hear that?" said Colt. Seeing as he'd only told that to one person, Malcolm Beaumont, Colt didn't actually need an answer to the question he'd just asked, but he still wanted to see how Richardson would handle it.

"Oh, I have my sources," he said. "But a man can never be too certain of whatever idle gossip he hears in passing."

It wasn't a very long ride, and the cart eased to a stop alongside the other two.

"So," said Richardson. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" said Davinworth.

"I was just asking if our new friend here worked in private security," said Richardson.

Davinworth's eyes widened a bit. "Oh?"

The others were staring at him now, too.

Hmm. No point in being overly secretive or combative when they were being so generous, Colt supposed. "It's true. Why do you ask?"

"Well," said Richardson, sizing up the driver in his hands as he prepared to tee off, "I was wondering if, perhaps, you had some sort of... professional curiosity about the recent murder of our local sheriff."

Colt paused momentarily as he was returning the twins to their stroller.

"The police never confirmed that it was a murder," said Nicholas Cree.

"Hmph, maybe not officially," said Richardson, "but I have it on good authority that many of them believe it to be one. And the fact that it hasn't been ruled a suicide after all this time should tell you something."

"Be that as it may," said Cree, "you shouldn't mislead the man with your own wild assumptions." His dark brown gaze settled on Colt. "Especially if you plan on hiring him."

Colt's head reared back a little upon hearing that. "Excuse me?"

"Bah," huffed Richardson. "Why do you always have to ruin everything, Nick?"

"Why do you always have to be so transparent?"

Richardson clicked his tongue and addressed Colt again. "I apologize for my tactless friend here. We had hoped to work our way up to that proposition a bit more gracefully."

"...We?" said Colt, looking across all four older gentlemen.

They each took turns either nodding or shrugging, apart from Fred, whose scarred expression seemed more grim than usual.

"We understand if you're not up for it," said Cree. "It is a ridiculous idea, dreamt up by a bunch of silly old men with too much time on their hands."