Blues Highway Blues (Crossroads Thriller) by Eyre Price

Author:Eyre Price [Price, Eyre]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Crime, recent
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2012-06-25T23:00:00+00:00

Gerald Feller had turned down his father-in-law’s offer to join him in his personal injury practice in Peoria. He’d suffered instead through the rigors of Quantico and then a revolving door of seven different field offices over the course of his career. Thirteen years of paperwork and bureaucracy. Thirteen years of watching less-qualified candidates skip past him on their ascent up the bureau’s ladder of command. Thirteen years and all he had to show for it was a failed marriage, a set of swollen ankles that warned him when it was going to storm, and a personnel jacket stuffed full of mediocre agent evaluations.

But this. This one was a redeemer. This was a game breaker. A career maker. It was six o’clock news—worthy. Front-page photo fodder. It was the case he’d been waiting thirteen years for. And he was determined that the locals weren’t going to fuck it up on him.

Clyde Mosby had been born and raised in Memphis. Ward 232. The fact that he’d lived to adulthood put him ahead of too many of the kids with whom he’d run those mean streets. That he’d become a Memphis homicide detective made him notorious in the old neighborhood. That he’d been tapped as a featured detective in the cable reality show Murder Squad had made him into a celebrity. Memphis was his city and he was the Man. It was not a title he was willing to relinquish to some tight-ass fed.

The two men met in the center of the parking lot, coming together like Frazier and Cooney out of their corners.

“Look sharp, boys,” Mosby called out to the uniformed officers who were stringing tape around their crime scene. “J. Edgar’s on the case.”

“Special Agent Gerald Feller.” He flipped his credentials too quickly to be read, a gesture he meant to convey his lack of interest in anything the cop with the camera crew had to say. “What’ve we got here?”

“We’ve got what we got.” Detective Mosby looked at the crime scene and then smiled smugly at Agent Feller like he was standing pat with three kings and a pair of aces. “What you got?”

“Jurisdiction.”

“Well, you better get DC to recalibrate your GPS for you, J. Edgar, ’cause this vehicle is parked right here in Memphis.” He pointed over to the gray compact as proof.

Special Agent Feller wasn’t impressed. Or entertained. “Well, it was taken from the scene of a murder in California. And the suspected driver is connected to a second murder out there. He’s also a suspect in the murder of a gas station attendant in New Mexico. And we believe he ignited a riot in New Orleans. So what we have here is a one-man crime spree. A crime spree across state lines. And that gives me jurisdiction.”

“Gives you? Or the bureau?”

“As far as you’re concerned, they’re one and the same.”

“Oh, is that right?”

The special agent and the detective continued the heated discussion without ever noticing the man who walked around the corner from the Stax Museum and blended into the crowd that had gathered along the sidewalk.

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