Free Buck Fever (Blanco County Mysteries) by Ben Rehder

happen…I don't know what I'd do.”
    Marlin looked Becky straight in the eyes and she was struck by the sincerity she saw in his face. Here's a man who knows what honesty is about, she thought. He seems so vulnerable, but so powerful at the same time. None of the typical macho crap.
    Marlin opened his mouth to speak again, when the waiter arrived with their lunches. “Enchiladas for the lady and the taco plate for you, sir.”
    As they dug in, Becky said, “You were about to say something….”
    Marlin looked down at his plate and smiled. “Just wanted to say thank you again. For taking care of Phil. And for going to lunch with me.”
    For Nurse Becky Cameron, enchiladas had never tasted so good.
    Bobby Garza followed McGregor Road one mile north of Highway 290, then turned left on the dirt driveway like Willie Combes had told him. At the head of the driveway, a rusty mailbox proudly announced COMBES to anyone who was interested.
    As he approached the house, a mobile home sitting on twenty or thirty cedar-covered acres, Garza thought maybe Willie was a local after all. Not many newcomers live out in the sticks like this, and the ones that do are Californians who pay three hundred grand or more for beautiful hilltop homes.
    Garza swung his cruiser up next to an old Buick and climbed out. Four dogs immediately began barking in a pen next to the mobile home.
    Garza had seen homes like this plenty of times, both in Blanco County and here, to the east, in Hays County.
    A satellite dish sat atop the mobile home. Two old refrigerators sat on the front porch next to a plaid sofa. No fewer than six rusting vehicles were clustered together in high grass a hundred feet away.
    As the dogs continued to bark, three geese approached Garza and began to make a racket. Garza knew from experience to keep an eye on them. They were quick to take a snap at your ankles and could easily draw blood.
    Behind a nearby fence, Garza could see seven or eight goats and several hogs lying in the shade next to a small sheet-metal shed.
    Out from the shed came a hefty, older woman in a floral print dress. She was carrying a galvanized bucket and waved at Garza with her free hand. “Hello! Be right with you.”
    The woman exited through a small gate and walked up to Garza. The dogs and geese fell silent as she approached. “Lordy, it sure is a hot one today.”
    “Yes ma'am, it sure is.” Garza removed his Stetson and said, “Ma'am, I'm Bobby Garza from the Blanco County Sheriff's Department.”
    “Thelma Combes, glad to meet you.” She extended a pudgy hand, warm and soft, like her voice. She must have been about seventy-five, everyone's idea of the perfect grandmother. Large and robust, her weight tested the seams of her dress. Bobby's dad used to spot a woman like that and say she was smuggling grapefruits.
    Garza said, “I was looking for Willie….”
    Thelma Combes’ face got a worried look. “Uh-oh, is that boy in trouble again?”
    “I don't know at this point. I just need to ask him a few questions. Has he been in trouble before?”
    “Ever since he started smoking that pot weed, he hasn't been quite the same. My daughter sent him out to me to see if I could straighten him out. As you can see, I'm the one doing his chores, so I haven't had a lot of luck.”
    “You're his grandmother?”
    “Yeah, but it ain't easy.”
    Garza smiled. “No, ma'am, I'm sure it's not. Is Willie somewhere around?”
    “He's in the house. Willie!” She shrieked loudly enough to startle Garza and quiet all the birds in nearby trees. “Willie! You got a gentleman out here that needs to talk to you.”
    They both stared at the trailer door. After a moment, a scraggly teenager emerged.
    “Willie, I'm gonna get right to it.” Garza and Willie Combes were sitting on a picnic table under some oak trees near the trailer. Garza had already asked Willie about his record. Coupla misdemeanors is all, Willie had said. Both for possession of marijuana. No big