A Lonesome Blood-Red Sun by David Putnam

Author:David Putnam [David Putnam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

When I finished the story, Captain Hamond sat back in his chair, his mouth sagging open, a little stunned, just like Doctor Willis.

Apparently, what I just told him was a little worse than what he read in the complaint.

Yikes.

I had hoped for a smile and a comment somewhere in the neighborhood of “Great job,” or “That’s the way to work the system.” But he closed his mouth, and his jaw muscle started to work. He sat forward. The new weather report now: Impending storm on the horizon, take cover.

This time I might’ve crossed over that ever-elusive Rubicon and had ventured deep into no-man’s land. I held up my hand to hold back the tirade in the offing. With my other hand, I yanked out of my back pocket a folded-up search warrant for Jo Jo’s house. “Roscoe gave it up just like I thought he would. He told me JoJo thinks cops are all fools, ‘asshats,’ was his exact word. Roscoe said JoJo, after a killing, never throws away his favorite nine. That he keeps it hidden in his house. JoJo thinks it brings him good luck. Roscoe said JoJo told him he had eight bodies on that one gun. Maybe even nine or ten. JoJo couldn’t remember for sure.”

Hamond reached way over his desktop, snatched the warrant out of my hand, and read it.

I continued to plead my case. “Look, we get that gun and match it ballistically to the Summit Valley body dump. We got JoJo cold. And no telling how many other murders are going to fall once DRUGFIRE runs the shell casings. Hell, we might clear nine or ten off your big board.” I pointed through his office window, out across the bullpen to the entire wall that listed the open/pending murders. The whiteboard was in a place the captain could see it every minute of every day, while he sat at his desk.

He looked up from the warrant. “He lives and sells his dope in San Bernardino city. That’s not our area.”

“But…but, if he dumped one body out in the county, maybe he dumped all his others there as well.”

That one got to him.

His eyes diffused as he tried to calculate the odds, backing his dark horse—me—or throwing me to the wolves.

He finally smiled.

The odds came back in my favor.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll put off your public hanging, but you better damn well find that gun.”

I stood, “No problem, captain. It’ll be there. I can feel it in my gut.”

“If it’s not, you and your gut are going to be across the parking lot shuttling patrol cars to the auto shops for repairs. No bullshit this time, Dave. Get this warrant served. That doc called the sheriff himself, and the entire executive staff is breathing down my neck over this boner.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m on it.” I talked while I walked toward the door.

“And Dave?”

I froze, cringed. I turned back.

“Some lady from out in Phelan or Baldy Mesa asked for you, said

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