From Beer to Eternity. Sherry Harris

      I looked at him for a moment. “Sure.” Why should he confide in me? I hadn’t been here that long. Still, I was disappointed. Joaquín was the only friend I had here—or sort of friend, apparently. I went out the front and stopped to gaze at the beach scene. Volleyball players, sunbathers, sandcastle builders, and people with metal detectors all cohabited the beach in harmony. Maybe it was just too hot to fuss about anything. A couple of Jet Skis darted around on the placid water as I made my way through the soft sand to the Briny Pirate.

      It was an old wooden structure with only a small sign over the door that said, “Briny Pirate.” Nothing big or garish along this strip of beach. No flashing neon signs, or many signs of any kind. It kept the natural beauty of the area the focus. Like the Sea Glass, the Briny Pirate had a deck on the ocean-facing side. I wove my way through the tables and stepped inside. The interior was decorated with fishing nets, fake gold coins, and a talking treasure box in one corner that kept kids amused. The scent of barbecue wafted in from the smoker on the west side of the building. I realized I was hungry.

      Vivi sat at the four-seater bar talking to Wade, their foreheads almost touching. She had a glass of iced tea in front of her. Moisture beaded on the glass, which was only about a quarter full, so she’d been here a while or had guzzled it. I was part aggravated and part relieved. At least she was okay. Their conversation looked intense. The only words that floated over were “questioned” and “Deputy Biffle.”