Free A Deadly Affair at Bobtail Ridge by Terry Shames Page A

creating an uproar. It’s clear that Ellen has no intention of going back to him. If I thought it was love driving him, I’d feel sorry for him, but all I sense is a pure need for power over a woman who finally got up the courage to leave him.
    Flanked by Zeke and Bill Odum, I knock on the door, not expecting an answer, but I hear footsteps and the door crashes open. Seth Forester is a big man, and his rage makes him look larger. His neck is bulging and his face crimson.
    Behind me Bill Odum says, “Whew” under his breath.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Forester thunders.
    â€œI’d like to have a word with Ellen,” I say in as calm a manner as I can, given that I’d like to yank the man out of the house and march him down the steps. Tarring and feathering always seemed like an extreme punishment to me, but at the moment it seems like a fair way to handle this man.
    â€œA word with Ellen?” He mimics me.
    â€œIf it’s not too much trouble. I’d like to make sure everything’s okay.”
    â€œEverything is fine and dandy,” he snarls. He starts to close the door. I may have several years on him, but my reaction time is still pretty quick. I slam my hand into the door. He’s not expecting it, and it shoves him backward. “What the hell?”
    I put my hand on my gun, which makes him notice that I’m armed. I seldom feel the need to have a gun, but this is one of those times. “Get Ellen out here,” I say.
    Forester twists his head to the side and yells, “Ellen! You’ve got company!”
    Ellen approaches the door, but hangs back, eyeing her ex-husband. Her face is dead white.
    Forester says, “Tell this phony lawman that everything is fine and that we don’t need his help.”
    â€œEllen, I’d like a word with you out here on the porch,” I say before she can make some excuse. “Sir, I want you to step back.”
    â€œEllen, tell him.” There’s no mistaking the threat in his voice.
    She eases past him onto the porch. She looks like a whipped dog.
    â€œTell the truth,” I say.
    She swallows. “Thank you for coming.” She looks at the man whom she divorced not that long ago, and something passes across her face. It’s as if she is taking a few seconds to relive their history—the good as well as the bad. “Seth has been tearing things up and I want him out of here.” Her voice is almost a whisper.
    Forester’s fists clench. “For Christ’s sake! What is wrong with you? If you’d just answer my phone calls, I wouldn’t have to come and find out what’s going on in this godforsaken hole.”
    I turn to Zeke Dibble. “Take her to the street,” I say.
    â€œMa’am,” Dibble says, “it’s best if you come with me.”
    â€œShe’s not going anywhere!” Before they’ve gotten three steps, Forester charges out of the house and grabs Zeke Dibble by the arm.
    I haven’t seen Dibble in action much, and I’m gratified when he slams his hand down across Seth Forester’s arm. “Get your hands off me!”
    I step behind Forester and grab his other arm and yank it behind him. It’s a futile gesture. The man is bull-strong and he snatches it away. But by this time Bill Odum has stepped up. He puts one hand on his weapon and the other on Seth Forester’s chest. “You need to get yourself under control,” he says. I like the quiet authority in his voice. Odum told me that at the police academy they warned him that he was too interested in the psychology side of law enforcement, but his words have a better effect than a confrontational tone would have. Forester takes a step backward.
    Neighbors are starting to come out of their houses. It’s time to put a stop to this right now. “I don’t know where you think your aggressive behavior is going to get you,” I say, “but if you