3 - Buffalo Mountain: Ike Schwartz Mystery 3 Read Online Free Page B

questions.”
    “Right. I almost forgot. What can you tell me about the history of Buffalo Mountain?”
    Weitz sat back and stared at the fire for a moment. He smiled. Ike swirled his drink and listened as his ice cubes played counterpoint to the crackle and hiss of the fire.
    “Ah, speaking of the history of migrations out of the mountains…there’s a place worth studying. How much time do you have? Or perhaps I should ask you, how much do you want to know? Is there a context in which you have framed your question?”
    “Context? Yes, as a matter of fact, I have a body in the morgue that has been identified as a Randall Harris. That’s just between us, by the way. He’s from Floyd. At least that’s what we’re working with at the moment. My deputy grew up there and started to fill me in on the culture, at least what he’d heard as a child—shootings, moonshiners, feuds…all that sort of stuff.”
    “It sounds like another lunch to me. But in the meantime, I suggest you read Richard Davids’ book The Man Who Moved a Mountain. It’s out of print but you can order it in any decent independent bookstore or I can lend you a copy. When you’ve had a chance to go through it and if you need more information, call me.”
    “Rough place? The mountain folk like the Hatfields and McCoys?”
    “No, not like them. Most of the folks up on the mountain and back in the coves were related somehow. The people who lived there were almost in a time warp. It seems odd to us at the remove of seventy and more years to think about people actually looking and living that way—”
    “What way?” Ruth had leaned forward. This was an area her Ph.D. in history never covered.
    “Fifteen or more packed into a one-room cabin and moonshine and Johnny ashcake for breakfast. Boys became men about twelve when they bought or stole their first pistol. Most folks settled their differences without the benefit of the law. Anyway, it was that way, not anymore.”
    “Now?”
    “It’s all cleaned up, as you will read, and is becoming a place for retreats, tourists, rental cabins tricked out to look primitive but complete with cable TV and Jacuzzis. Do you suppose the would-be renovators of Picketsville have something like that in mind?”
    “I wouldn’t put it past them.”
    “Well, on that happy note, I will leave the two of you alone. Good night.” Weitz disappeared into an icy night.
    Ike stretched out his legs and drained his glass. Outside, the wind gusted and he heard the rattle of leaves swirling about on the lawn, the creak of protesting tree limbs. A night to stay indoors by a fire, to read or… Ruth closed the door after Weitz and returned. She stood over him and smiled.
    “You get a star for tonight,” she said. “Another drink?”
    “A small one. Why a star?”
    “Because you behaved like a normal human being. I’m amazed. Usually my faculty acts like a red cape and you’re the bull. Are you feeling all right? You’re not coming down with something, are you?”
    “Very funny. I’m fine. It’s just that I have more important things on my mind right now than listening to elitist nonsense.”
    “You liked Weitz?”
    “Good guy. I think I will have lunch…or is it do lunch … I can never remember the correct figure of speech to use.”
    “Just be yourself. Down here don’t y’all say ‘grab a bite’?”
    “Don’t start.”
    “Do you know what constitutes a seven-course meal for a redneck?”
    “No, but you’re going to tell me.”
    “A possum and a six pack.”
    “Have you been saving that up for me?”
    “Oh yeah.”
    “Do you know how many Ph.D.s it takes to change a light bulb?”
    “Four, five? I don’t know.”
    “Two, one to mix the martinis and one to call the electric company.”
    “Do you want to quit while we’re even?”
    “Absolutely. It’s been a worrisome day and—”
    “Say no more. Drink up and come upstairs. I’ll go slip into something—”
    “Comfortable?