Free Alibi Creek by Bev Magennis Page A

from the opposite wall. The place smelled likea mixture of antiseptic and grade school cafeteria. Through the window, wrought iron fencing enclosed manicured lawns. A grounds keeper drove by in a golf cart.
    Walker cleared his throat. The old man barely moved, peering at the paper over a pair of thick glasses straddling the end of his nose.
    â€œHello, Ross,” Walker said. “Didn’t know if I’d find you asleep this time of day.”
    Ross raised his head and looked him over.
    â€œWell, what a surprise. Pull that desk chair over and have a seat where I can get a good look at you.”
    â€œI brought you dinner,” Walker said, holding up the Burger King bag.
    â€œThat’s fine. Just fine.”
    Walker emptied the sack on the bedside table, itemizing the contents, and took a few sugar packets out, setting them beside the bag.
    â€œI didn’t pay for those,” he said. “The way prices have gone up, I figure fast food joints owe us a few perks.”
    â€œI suppose you’re right,” Ross said.
    Well, that went over like drawing Harley McKenna’s two-ton bull at the rodeo.
    Ross had lost maybe forty pounds, most of his hair, and almost all of his teeth. His ears looked twice their regular size and his cheeks seemed sucked into his mouth, leaving two round sockets, deep as pockets on a billiards table.
    â€œThey treating you good here?” Walker asked.
    â€œProbably about the way you got treated in the last establishment you visited.”
    â€œRoss, I forgot all about it.” Walker flipped the chair around, threw a leg over it and rested his arms across the back. “The day after I got home, the whole experience faded. Mother’s about the same, no worse at any rate. Lee Ann andEugene got things runnin’ smooth as a Broadway musical, all the legs kickin’ at the same height. Dee and Scott help out real good. Go on. Have a few fries.”
    â€œNo. Not right now. I never did develop a taste for that kind of food. Charlotte’s chicken fried steak was all I asked for to celebrate any occasion. Her gravy and mashed potatoes went down easy, settled easy. She fixed stuffed peppers every Thursday, knowing that was my second favorite. She’d soak pinto beans and season them with pork fat. Her enchiladas beat anything they turned out at Vera’s and her pot roast…”
    â€œRoss, I’ll come right to the point. Owen sent me down here to get your signature on a quitclaim deed to transfer the ranch.” He reached into the manila envelope and unfolded the form. “He’d have come himself, but he had an important survey to complete this week.”
    â€œHe never mentioned nothing about it when he called Sunday.”
    â€œI know. This came up sudden. Ted Bowles advised him to have you transfer the property directly to Owen before you passed on, to save having to go through probate. You know, Ted’s the best lawyer in the county.”
    Ross folded his hands in his lap.
    â€œI believe I’ll wait until I talk to Owen.”
    â€œRoss, I drove all the way over here.” He waved a woman into the room. “And I arranged for Miss Marlene Spencer here to meet with us in order to notarize this simple transaction. I’ll tell you what. You sign and if Owen decides against it, he can toss the form out. But, see, he’ll have the paper in case you both agree to follow Ted’s advice.”
    â€œI’m sorry you took the trouble, ma’am,” Ross said. He turned his attention to Walker. “I reckon you can stay one more day until I speak with Owen tonight.”
    â€œWell, now, that’s not possible because I promised Eugene I’d be there to help get ready for roundup. Owen said he’d call you Sunday as usual.”
    He unwrapped the burger and tore it in two, laid a napkin across Ross’s lap and wheeled the bedside table next to his chair, aiming the open bag of fries within