Chapter 31

Sharla walked through the door of Risky Dick’s at exactly 7:30 p.m., followed by Shirley Campbell. The two women were laughing and talking as they came in, and Martin was sure they had introduced themselves to each other in the parking lot.

Martin jumped off his bar stool, and hurried over to the door. “Hi, Guys, I see you’ve met.” Sharla and Shirley laughed together. “We sure did, Martin,” Sharla said, smiling at him. “What a great idea to invite Shirley to join us. But you know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were afraid to be alone with me!”

Martin’s face turned beet red. ‘No, hey, no, I just..” he struggled to find some words that wouldn’t give him away. Sharla giggled, and Shirley shook Martin by the shoulder. “Oh Martin, relax. She’s kidding,” Shirley assured him. “I think we all know you’d love to be alone with Sharla, if you just could finish this story.” She moved quickly to a table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Well come on, you guys, let’s get at it. I don’t have all night, and if we hurry, you just might salvage some of this date, Martin.”

Before Martin could feel any more embarrassed, Sharla took his hand, pulled him toward the table and said, “Come on, Martin, let’s get at it!”

Don came from back in the kitchen, and upon seeing Sharla and Shirley, hustled over to their table with a wet rag. “Ladies, let me make sure that table is clean for you.” He wiped down the sticky surface, stepped back to admire his work and then made a dramatic bow. “Ms. Whitefeather, Mrs. Campbell, I am at your service.”

Martin groaned, but Sharla and Shirley laughed out loud, obviously pleased to be fussed over by Don Wardle. Shirley whacked Martin on the arm and said, “Martin, you could learn a few things from Don.” She winked at Don and continued, “He knows how to treat women.”

Don grinned wickedly at Martin, bowed slightly again to Sharla and Shirley, and replied with mock modestly, “I only know that is the most wonderful thing in the world to be in the company of such beautiful women.” He threw the rag back to the bar and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, what can I get you folks.” It was almost as if Don suddenly remembered that his beautiful woman of the moment would be walking into Risky Dick’s at any moment, wanting his full attention. “How about a pitcher of Grain Belt? Are you in the mood for burgers tonight? I also have some pulled pork and barbeque sauce for sandwiches, if you’re interested.”

The group all agreed in unison that burgers were the meal of choice, and Don moved quickly to the kitchen. Martin could hear the sizzling of the ground beef on the griddle as he looked around the restaurant, taking in who of Burnett County’s citizenry was in the house. The place was unusually empty, something Martin was thankful for, though he didn’t know exactly why.
Don was back to the table with a pitcher of beer and three frosty mugs. “Here you go, Ladies, Martin.” He poured a mug for each of them, and went back to the bar to fill the pitcher up to the top again. “Here, this should keep you going for a while.” And he was gone again, back to the kitchen.

Martin picked up his mug and held it up. “To making sure Frank Talbot doesn’t hurt one more Indian girl.” Shirley and Sharla raised their mugs and clunked them into Martin’s. “To making sure Frank Talbot doesn’t hurt one more girl,” Shirley reiterated. “Indian or otherwise.”

+ + +

By the time Martin, Sharla and Shirley finished their burgers and had a couple of beers each, they had reviewed all they knew about Talbot’s activities, how the Sentinel had documented each incident (“or covered it up”, as Shirley liked to refer to it) and what they thought Martin should do next to corner him and wrap up his story at the same time.

“I think you should just interview Talbot and ask him point blank just what he thinks he’s been doing all these years,” Shirley suggested, indignantly. “And make sure you do it in public so lots of people can see him squirm.”

Martin shook his head. “I don’t know, Shirley. That seems a little too confrontational, and he’d probably cry ‘fowl’ to Clark.”

Sharla cut in. “And he’s such a snake, he’d deny it and probably pretty convincingly.” Shirley nodded. “You’re right. He’s a great liar.”

Each woman grew quiet as they each recalled their own humiliation and how Talbot had acted as if nothing happened in the limited aftermath. Martin got up and went to the bar to refill the pitcher. "Martin, would you bring me a Coke?" Sharla called after him. He looked around, craned his neck to see into the kitchen and couldn’t see Don anywhere. He called out, “Don, I’m refilling our pitcher and getting a Coke,” hoping he’d hear, and heard a muffled response from the store room behind the kitchen, “Help yourself.”

Martin moved toward the table and saw Sharla and Shirley deep in conversation. They shut up quickly when they saw him approach. “Here you go, Girls. If my journalism job doesn’t work out, I can be a bartender.” They looked at each other and began laughing. “Martin, you are a riot,” Shirley smiled up at him and held up her mug. “Fill me up, bar keep. I’m thirsty.”

Martin filled Shirley’s mug, set Sharla's Coke in front of her and was going to fill his own mug when he heard he heard the door open to Risky Dick’s. Jean Lundeen walked through the door, let out a gasp and said, “Martin, what are you doing here?”