BooksBarbecue
Back We Were Killers Once
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

Her name was Gloria Bentham and she said she had a place in walking distance off Houghton where she didn’t have to drive in case she’d had a little too much to drink. Tonight she had had a little too much to drink, so she was a little less distrustful than she might have been. You could see her, as they talked, him about his wife and kids he didn’t get along with, and his career with race horses, disappointingly a little too tall to be a jockey, but training paid well, her flippant about two divorces just to show she hadn’t been left on the shelf her whole life, and her job as a doctor’s receptionist, trying to figure out if he was the real thing, and worth it. You could almost see the oh-what-the-hell change come over her face when she said it was time to go. Who would lie about being a horse trainer?

She was cautious enough to ask where he lived, making her sound like a real estate agent qualifying a potential buyer. But just because she was careful didn’t make her a women’s libber.

“Hotels right now.” Cheap motel, actually, but hotels sounded more like he had money. “I sold my place in Weston. Know where that is?”

She shook her head no.

“Southeast Florida, but not on the coast. More land there. I had a couple horses of my own, but sold them with the house. Now I’m traveling around, looking for the next part of my life.”

She said she liked the way he said that. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” she said, nodding a little too vigorously.

He didn’t comment because he was busy paying for their drinks. When she got off her stool he saw he had guessed right, she was just petite enough that she wasn’t taller than him. He walked her home, humming softly and now and then popping his lips.

“What’s that tune?” Gloria asked. “I know it.”

“My mom used to sing it to me when I was a little guy. It’s called ‘Humoresque.’”

“You’re different,” she said.

Beaufort darted a glance at her. What am I doing wrong now? “How so?” he asked.

Seemed she could tell that bothered him and quickly replied, “Wearing a jacket anywhere in Tucson, but especially to that dive bar. Liking classical music.” She paused and then said with a flip of her hair that was probably meant to make her look girlish, “I like it.”

“Well, I like you,” Beaufort said. As he said it, he realized he meant it, too.