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

don’t settle down right now it’s going to get you a night in jail.”
    Forester mutters something I don’t get, but I let it go. But then he repeats it, louder. “Just try taking me to jail, you two-bit hick.”
    By now Dibble has taken Ellen to the street. She’s standing by the car, head down, arms hugged to herself. Nobody should have to put up with this humiliation. I yank the cuffs off my belt and say, “Put your hands behind your back.”
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding,” Forester says.
    â€œDon’t count on it. I’m taking you in to give you the opportunity to rethink your situation.”
    â€œYou are going to have yourself one hell of a lawsuit on your hands. And if I understand it, this town can’t afford anything like that.”
    â€œWe’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I say. My heart is pounding as I slip the cuffs onto him. I don’t remember when I’ve been this angry.
    No matter how much control Forester thinks he has over the situation, he realizes he’s outnumbered and he lets himself be escorted into Odum’s police car. Ellen looks distressed seeing what’s happening, and I send her back into her house before she has a chance to protest. I don’t think I can stand it if she starts defending this bully.
    Dibble assures me that they won’t have any trouble getting Forester into a cell. “With his hands cuffed behind his back, he isn’t going to do much of anything.”
    As soon as they drive away, I head to the front door, which Ellen has left standing open. I call out to tell her that I’m coming inside. She’s sitting in her living room on the sofa, bent over with her head in her hands. She looks up when she hears my footsteps. “He wasn’t always this way,” she says.
    â€œPeople change.” I’m in no mood to hear her make excuses for him.
    Somewhere in the house there’s a dog yapping frantically. I glance in that direction.
    She jumps up. “Poor Frazier. I had to put him in the utility room while Seth was here. Seth hates him and the feeling is mutual. I’ll go get him.”
    She returns carrying a medium-sized brown dog of uncertain breed. The dog is trembling in her arms and gives a half-hearted bark in my direction. “It’s okay, Frazier,” she says. “Good boy. Samuel won’t hurt you.” She sits down and puts the dog on the floor, where it huddles next to her leg panting, glaring at me.
    â€œRescue dog?” I say.
    â€œSort of. When my next-door neighbor died last year, I said I’d take the dog.” She strokes its head. “Seth was furious. Believe it or not, that was the last straw. I thought if he can’t even be kind to a poor dog, what hope is there for me?”
    I don’t reply for a minute as I survey the damage that’s been done. There’s a smashed lamp, a small end table lying on its side, and a broken cup and saucer on the carpet in a puddle of coffee. There are several photos lying on the floor next to an overturned chair. The coffee table is at an odd angle, as if it’s been yanked around.
    â€œWhat’s going to happen to Seth?” she says. She’s not looking at me but at the dog, who’s still trembling.
    â€œLook at what Seth has done,” I say. “He forced his way in here against your will—that’s assault—and then resisted arrest. I don’t understand why you won’t get a restraining order against him.”
    She rubs her forehead. “I just can’t. My children would have a fit. They’re barely speaking to me as it is.”
    â€œWhere are your kids?”
    â€œMy daughter lives in New York, and my son lives in Houston. He’s at the University of Houston getting his MBA.”
    â€œHave you told them the way he’s been treating you?”
    She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to bring them into