Crystal came out and set our hamburgers down in front of us. We were silent until she dropped off our milk shakes a moment later. Kelton took a sip of his shake. I followed his lead and tried mine, too. It was the best shake I’d ever had. No wonder he had one every night. But if I did that, in no time I’d need to sit on two stools.
“Manny’s murder is the first major case we’ve had in Trouble since I got here and I’m not exactly impressing the city fathers with my progress.”
“It’s only been a couple of days,” I said. It took enormous willpower not to finish my luscious milk shake before I even took a bite out of my cheeseburger.
“They know I’ve got no leads and that I’m sitting around, waiting for something to break.”
“Why did you tell them that?”
“I didn’t. My officers are their eyes and ears.”
I bit into my cheeseburger and couldn’t believe how good it tasted. I realized in that instant that it had been years, perhaps decades, since I had a genuine hamburger the way God intended hamburgers to be. Juicy, fatty, and salty with a real fire-grilled, meaty flavor. The cheese was thick, extra-sharp smoked cheddar that was hot and gooey. I took another bite before I even swallowed my first one.
I was in hamburger heaven.
Kelton hadn’t touched his burger yet. He seemed to have lost his appetite. I was tempted to ask if I could have his burger, too. Instead, I took another big bite of mine and washed it down with a sip of chocolate shake.
“Well, this sure isn’t going the way I planned,” he said.
“The investigation?”
“Our dinner.”
As far as I was concerned, dinner was fabulous. “You planned something?”
“I planned on being upbeat, witty, and charming,” Kelton said. “Instead, all I’ve done is unload all of my problems on you.”
“I’m flattered that you did,” I said, wiping the juice and drool and cheese from my mouth with a napkin. “I much prefer a real conversation to a performance. I feel that I know you better after one day than I’ve known some men that I’ve dated for weeks.”
“I could have listened more and talked less.”
“There’s still time,” I said, though the truth was I was hoping he’d talk some more about anything he wanted so I could keep on eating.
And I wondered if he’d think less of me if I ordered another cheeseburger, not that I intended to let that stop me.
Kelton had revealed so much about himself to me that I told him my life story to even things up a bit, though I suspect he knew most of it already from the digging that he’d done. But he listened intently anyway, probably looking for inconsistencies between what he’d learned and what I was telling. Not that I’d hold that against him. He couldn’t help himself. Kelton was a detective, after all. After that, we talked about this and that and nothing in particular.
I liked him. He was honest, warm, and self-deprecating. And there was a tragic undercurrent to his life that made him oddly compelling. He never explained how or why he’d become a drunk, or went into any more details about the shameful things he did in Boston that got him fired, but that only made him more interesting to me.
I’m not sure what that says about my personality, or my taste in men. But I liked that he wasn’t perfect, that he knew it, and didn’t have a problem admitting it. I’ve met too many men who try way too hard to convince me how wonderful they are. Harley Kelton didn’t do that.
There was a comment he’d made about Monk rejecting the possibility of an ancestor in Trouble—“it is what it is”—and I think that pretty much summed up Kelton’s approach to dealing with life. He took things as they came and didn’t make excuses for the choices he made, good or bad.
Speaking of choices, I showed incredible self-control and didn’t end up ordering a second cheeseburger, but I devoured a big slice of apple pie à la mode instead.
I reached for my purse when
“Manny’s murder is the first major case we’ve had in Trouble since I got here and I’m not exactly impressing the city fathers with my progress.”
“It’s only been a couple of days,” I said. It took enormous willpower not to finish my luscious milk shake before I even took a bite out of my cheeseburger.
“They know I’ve got no leads and that I’m sitting around, waiting for something to break.”
“Why did you tell them that?”
“I didn’t. My officers are their eyes and ears.”
I bit into my cheeseburger and couldn’t believe how good it tasted. I realized in that instant that it had been years, perhaps decades, since I had a genuine hamburger the way God intended hamburgers to be. Juicy, fatty, and salty with a real fire-grilled, meaty flavor. The cheese was thick, extra-sharp smoked cheddar that was hot and gooey. I took another bite before I even swallowed my first one.
I was in hamburger heaven.
Kelton hadn’t touched his burger yet. He seemed to have lost his appetite. I was tempted to ask if I could have his burger, too. Instead, I took another big bite of mine and washed it down with a sip of chocolate shake.
“Well, this sure isn’t going the way I planned,” he said.
“The investigation?”
“Our dinner.”
As far as I was concerned, dinner was fabulous. “You planned something?”
“I planned on being upbeat, witty, and charming,” Kelton said. “Instead, all I’ve done is unload all of my problems on you.”
“I’m flattered that you did,” I said, wiping the juice and drool and cheese from my mouth with a napkin. “I much prefer a real conversation to a performance. I feel that I know you better after one day than I’ve known some men that I’ve dated for weeks.”
“I could have listened more and talked less.”
“There’s still time,” I said, though the truth was I was hoping he’d talk some more about anything he wanted so I could keep on eating.
And I wondered if he’d think less of me if I ordered another cheeseburger, not that I intended to let that stop me.
Kelton had revealed so much about himself to me that I told him my life story to even things up a bit, though I suspect he knew most of it already from the digging that he’d done. But he listened intently anyway, probably looking for inconsistencies between what he’d learned and what I was telling. Not that I’d hold that against him. He couldn’t help himself. Kelton was a detective, after all. After that, we talked about this and that and nothing in particular.
I liked him. He was honest, warm, and self-deprecating. And there was a tragic undercurrent to his life that made him oddly compelling. He never explained how or why he’d become a drunk, or went into any more details about the shameful things he did in Boston that got him fired, but that only made him more interesting to me.
I’m not sure what that says about my personality, or my taste in men. But I liked that he wasn’t perfect, that he knew it, and didn’t have a problem admitting it. I’ve met too many men who try way too hard to convince me how wonderful they are. Harley Kelton didn’t do that.
There was a comment he’d made about Monk rejecting the possibility of an ancestor in Trouble—“it is what it is”—and I think that pretty much summed up Kelton’s approach to dealing with life. He took things as they came and didn’t make excuses for the choices he made, good or bad.
Speaking of choices, I showed incredible self-control and didn’t end up ordering a second cheeseburger, but I devoured a big slice of apple pie à la mode instead.
I reached for my purse when
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