The Valhalla Plot: Operation Presidential Thunder by Bob Killinger

Author:Bob Killinger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2018-05-01T13:02:59+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Time and Murder

Friday 9/18/20, 8:24 AM

The Third Floor of the Houston Police Department Headquarters

Riesner Street

Houston, Texas

Throwing up in the morning had become a regular bodily function for Detective Arroyo, as sometimes happened with severe alcoholics. Instead of looking at it as a penalty for his inability to control his disease, Arroyo took it like his body was purging the uselessness of his life, removing all his troubled past and getting a fresh start on the day. After he finished worshipping the porcelain bowl in the third-floor restroom of the police station, he washed his face in the sink, went back to his desk, and finished packing his things.

Last night, Arroyo had driven to a municipal park and drunk the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the moonlight, thought about how he had lost Maria, and then passed out in the back seat. When he woke up this morning, he decided Maria was never going to be the same woman, so he would leave her. He had lived without her for almost forty years, and he would just forget her. He decided to quit the police force also. There was nothing at the station that he wanted to go back to anymore. He hated the men, got no respect, and was a good detective who never got a chance to prove it. Now all he wanted was to get a fresh start in life, maybe go somewhere he’d never seen and rest for a few months, and then get back into the real world again, to work as a security guard at a mall or something. He had driven to the police station for what he felt was the last time, started cleaning out his desk, took a ralphing break, and then continued cleaning.

“Hey Vicky, guess what?” Officer John Anderson said, then just looked at Arroyo in horror. “Jesus, Vicky, you look like shit today. Isn’t that the same suit you had on yesterday?”

“I’m quitting, John,” Arroyo said. “Get someone else to do your work.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, Vicky. You remember that kid last night, Michael Connor?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He killed his father last night. The alarm went off at his father’s house about 2:00 a.m., and the security guard found his father dead in the living room. The kid broke his neck, his nose, and all his fingers.”

“How do you know the kid did it?” Arroyo asked, interested now. Arroyo might have been the last guy to see Michael before he broke his father’s neck, and he felt a little responsible.

“The FBI showed up, and they said the kid killed his father,” Officer Anderson said, trying to avoid Arroyo’s breath. “Evidently the little bastard killed a college professor in Huntsville yesterday morning, and they were already looking for Connor.”

“Who called the FBI? How did they find out about his father’s death?”

“Hell if I know,” Officer Anderson said, walking away. “By the way, you picked the wrong day to quit, Vicky. Sergeant Larson called and said he wasn’t showing up today.

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