The Huckleberry Murders by Patrick F. McManus

Author:Patrick F. McManus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks

18

TULLY MET ANGIE at the hotel café shortly after five the next morning.

“You’re a mighty early riser, Sheriff.”

Tully pulled out a chair and sat down. “Yeah. And this is after I milked the cow, fed the chickens, and slopped the hogs. Did I mention my well is drying up and I have to dig a new one?”

Angie shook her head. “In one fell swoop, Bo, you wiped out any tiny bit of interest I might have had in you. The well finished it off.”

He grabbed a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and perused it. “What, you don’t like us farmers?”

“I was raised on a farm just like yours. Once I even helped my father dig a new well. It was ghastly! I get back there once a year to watch my folks work themselves to death. They claim to enjoy the life. Say it gives them a sense of independence.” She nibbled a triangle of toast.

“That’s the same with me. If I get fired from my job as sheriff, I know I won’t starve to death. Maybe I’ll start making cheese from my goats’ milk.”

“You never mentioned goats.”

“Goats easily slip your mind. I do have a treat waiting for you in Spokane, though. We’ll stop by the art galley that handles my paintings, Jean Runyan’s.”

“Don’t you have any of your paintings at home?”

“Oh, yeah, I have four of my best watercolors up on a wall of my bedroom.”

Angie laughed. “That sounds a lot like bait, Bo.”

“You think so, Angie? I suppose it’s your FBI training that makes you so suspicious. No, the reason I have the paintings in the bedroom is, when I wake up in the morning and look at them, I think to myself, Dang, Bo, you are good! If you ever get sick of sheriffing, you can become a full-time painter.”

Angie smiled. “I think that would make an awfully nice life, being a full-time artist.”

“You forget the fun I have dealing with criminals day in and day out.”

“Well, sure, there’s that.”

• • •

Tully drove up US 95 to Coeur d’Alene and took I-90 into Spokane. He took the off-ramp at Main Street and drove north to the Meadow Park Shopping Center. A private post office with an outside entrance was housed in the mall. The First Miners Bank sat at the northern edge of the shopping center. Tully stopped in a parking area across from the post office.

He turned to Angie. “You really should come in with me. Pick up a few tips on crime investigation.”

Angie opened her door. “Yeah, right. But it’s a federal crime to mess with post offices. If you do anything illegal, I’ll have to arrest you.”

“Oh, in that case, maybe you should stay in the car.”

“I’m going!”

An elderly clerk watched them enter. She seemed pleasant enough. A skinny young man with a shaved head messed with something in the back. Apparently, the business also did packaging, and he seemed to be wrapping up a small carton. Mailboxes covered one wall. Tully found the one with the number Ray Crockett had given him.

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