Murder Wears a Medal by Donna Doyle

Murder Wears a Medal by Donna Doyle

Author:Donna Doyle [Doyle, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PureRead
Published: 2020-05-02T22:00:00+00:00


17

Who Killed Sean

“He killed himself with your gun.”

Troy had been summoned to the police station mid-morning on the following day by Chief Stark, who had given no explanation for his order. Troy showed up in jeans and a tee-shirt and something akin to a prayer that he would not show vulnerability in front of Chief Stark.

Now he stared. “My gun?”

“Claypool killed himself with your gun. How do you explain that?”

“If you tell me who used his key to open the squad car and the compartment to steal my Baretta, I’ll try to figure it out. He didn’t kill himself, by the way.”

“I saw the report. His fingerprints were on your gun. He put your gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. You’ve been a cop long enough to know that you always keep your weapons locked up. Just because you were issued a new weapon didn’t mean you should have gotten careless with the old one. I told you to keep it in the car.”

“Speaking of cars,” Troy said, “who owned the car that Sean was killed in?”

“He must have stolen it,” Chief Stark said. The habitual façade of geniality was absent from his face. Instead of the caring policeman who visited the schools to tell kids that they could trust a police officer because he was there to help them, his visage was tight, the anger corralled behind the bland, middle-aged features of a man who showed a mask to the world but had taken it off in front of Troy. “Stolen it to kill himself in. You should be relieved he didn’t do it in your SUV. Messy.”

Kyle, seated in his scooter working on a report, looked up. His expression was uncharacteristically watchful as he listened to the conversation, his eyes intent upon Chief Stark.

“Who owned the car? Who used his key to take my gun out of the squad car? Who used my gun to murder Sean Claypool?”

“You’re not listening, Kennedy. He blew his brains out. He was a veteran with emotional problems. It’s a familiar story. I’m not knocking anyone who serves this country; there’s no bigger supporter than me when it comes to our boys in uniform. But there’s no excuse for veterans who come back home, get into fights, take drugs, commit crimes—”

“Who’s Eddie Kavlick?”

Troy knew that he’d scored a hit from the sudden silence. Chief Stark wasn’t expecting the question. Nor, Troy suspected, was he expecting to hear the name.

After a few moments, Chief Stark recovered his poise. “I don’t know who Eddie Kavlick is. Do you have any other random names you want to try out on me?”

“Maybe. But for now, Eddie Kavlick will do for a start.”

“I don’t like your attitude, Kennedy.”

“Someone with a key unlocked the squad car, unlocked the compartment, took out my gun and used it to kill Sean Claypool, then doctored the crime scene to make it look like a suicide.”

“Look, Kennedy,” Chief Stark attempted to sound concerned. “I know you’re upset over your friend’s death. Anyone would be.



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