Coyote Alibi by J. & D. Burges

Author:J. & D. Burges [J. & Burges, D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Naaltsoos Press
Published: 2018-02-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

I gave my kids a generic warning about watching for strangers—murderer on the loose in town and all of that. I also kept them home all evening. They could tell something was up.

I kept my borrowed pistol out of sight but close at hand all evening long, waiting for Fred to show up at my door, but he never did. Rice didn’t even call. That’s the way it is with men. They say they’ll call, but they usually don’t. The only call that came in was from Carson. He said that he wanted me to go fishing with him the next morning and that we wouldn’t be getting an early start. He said to wait for him at home and he would pick me up at ten in the morning.

I slept fitfully with the pistol under the covers next to me all night long. I repeated all my warnings to the kids at breakfast and told them they’d have to stay home after school. They promised that they would. Usually, they could be trusted when there was a murderer loose in town. Still, I drove them the few blocks to their schools—yes, they rolled their eyes—and told them to stay there until I picked them up in the afternoon.

Carson was almost on time. He showed up about fifteen minutes late and any observer would have known that he was going fishing. Four fishing rods were sticking up out of the back of his pickup truck, and a large ice chest was plainly visible. He was wearing a canvas vest from which dangled all manner of fishing paraphernalia. He also sported a crumpled khaki hat that was decorated with at least a dozen colorful flies.

I didn’t have a fishing costume so all I could add to the illusion was myself in old denim pants and a plaid flannel shirt. I would have worn a hat, but I was having a particularly good hair day and didn’t want to spoil my luck. I was carrying an old day pack of Len’s into which I’d stuffed the pistol and a fistful of extra bullets, along with the usual purse necessities.

I opened the truck’s passenger door and stood for a minute, looking up and down the street. Nothing.

I climbed in and said, “Nobody seems to be following us yet. What’s up?”

Carson started the truck and shifted into gear. “Oh, that. Well, the chief requested the pleasure of Fred’s company this morning, and Mr. Rice’s, too. They’re all spending a little time together at the station.” Still, he waited at the stop sign a few beats longer than necessary, looking in the rear-view mirror, before turning north toward the lake.

I turned to look through the back window, too, just in case. Seeing no menacing vehicles—no vehicles at all—I turned around and changed the subject. “Ellen is out on the reservation,” I said. “I called her mother last night. Ellen had told her that she was going out to stay at her grandfather’s place for a few days.

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