The Governor's Man (Kerrigan Book 2) by Barry Lees

Author:Barry Lees [Lees, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SEG Publishing
Published: 2022-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

10

Time passed in distorted chunks. I didn’t know who called the cops and the ambulance, but eventually both arrived.

A patrol cop spoke to me. He seemed more interested in how fast the truck was going than why the man had run through moving traffic on the bridge. The cop wrote down my details and asked me how I knew the deceased. I identified the body. Then the coroner’s vehicle took it away. Other cops spoke to other witnesses. I waited until I was allowed to leave.

As I walked back to my car, I spotted a young guy on a motorcycle. He sat parked to the side as he watched the police and coroner’s staff do their work.

That’s the same cyclist from earlier. Norling had run right past him.

The guy stared intently at the scene. He did not wear a helmet, showing a shock of dark wavy hair. I guessed his age at eighteen or nineteen. I wondered why he was still here.

He glanced away from the scene and our gazes met. His expression became instantly alarmed. It caught me off guard. He kick-started his bike, straightened the front wheel, then sped away. Out of habit, I looked at his license plate, memorizing 411KND. I also noted the emblem on the back of his leather jacket—U.S. Marine Corps.

As I drove to Sacramento, I tried to make sense of this entire confusing day, to understand even just a little bit.

Malcolm Norling had been alive and safe, protected by the reverend. Then I came along. And now Malcolm was dead. Hell, he probably would’ve been safer going with Eddie Lombardi.

He was a runner. I should’ve seen it coming. If I had just kept my mouth shut, I would have returned him to the governor’s mansion.

Night moved in by the time I pulled up to Governor Washall’s home. Jack Chessel strolled out of his security station to greet me. He opened the gates.

I told him we’d chat later.

I drove my Hudson up the driveway and parked. I was just about to open my door, when I remembered Malcolm’s duffel bag. He’d tossed it in the back. I reached over the seat, retrieving it, and quickly rifled through it. Other than clothes and underwear, I found nothing relating to money.

Mr. Parminter opened the mansion’s door when I rang. He looked past me, obviously eager to see Malcolm Norling.

“I’m alone,” I said.

“Oh.” He frowned.

I followed him inside, up the staircase, along a corridor of more doors painted cream. Wall- mounted antique lamps illuminated the area. We entered a room of old oak paneling and green leather upholstered chairs. The governor sat behind a grand desk. Elizabeth (Betty) Jendle, secretary of the Widows Association, stood beside him.

Lawrence Parminter closed the door behind me. It occurred to me that four names were registered to withdraw the funds. With Malcolm dead, the three remaining were in this room.

“Mrs. Jendle, Governor Washall.” I acknowledged them.

The governor got right to the point. “I hear you’ve found our missing intern.”

“I did. This afternoon I traced Mr.

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