Comanche by Brett Riley

Author:Brett Riley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Imbrifex Books
Published: 2020-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

Bradley arrived just as Austin’s streetlamps winked on. He took one look at Raymond’s mangled hand and sent him to the emergency room with Deputy Roen. Five minutes later, as Bradley took LeBlanc’s statement, C.W. Roark arrived, wearing a coat and tie and looking mad enough to chew glass. He barreled through the onlookers and ducked under the police tape, ignoring the deputies’ protests.

Of course, the mayor spat, eyeing LeBlanc as he approached. Brushing past McDowell, he poked LeBlanc’s chest with his index finger. I knew it was y’all. Who else would fire weapons inside the city limits and stick around until the police showed up? Even the goddam meth heads got more sense than that.

LeBlanc scowled. Stop pokin me, you dick, or I’ll rip that finger off and feed it to you.

McDowell stepped between them as Roark said, You heard him threaten me, Bob. I want this half-assed Sam Spade arrested.

Yeah, Bradley said. And I saw you poke him, which is technically assault. I don’t think we should bring charges against each other. We got bigger problems.

Roark glared at Bradley. You wanna be careful which side you pick.

What sides? Seems like we’re all fryin in the same skillet. Listen to what the man has to say.

Roark stared a hole in Bradley, but the chief did not back down. Finally, the mayor turned to LeBlanc and said, Get on with it.

LeBlanc gritted his teeth. Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him.

He told Roark the story, sparing no detail, but might as well have saved his breath. The mayor’s face filled with contempt, as if he were listening to a lunatic recount a fever dream.

So let me get this straight, he said. You don’t think we’re dealin with a psychopath or mass hysteria. You really believe you saw a ghost. And that it shot Raymond.

LeBlanc sighed and tried to stay calm. I don’t know what I believe right now. I just can’t explain what I saw. Ray’s hand is proof somebody was here. And I shot the sumbitch at close range. With a shotgun. Ask your boys if they found any blood. I’m bettin they won’t, unless it’s Betsy’s.

Uh-huh. Don’t sound nuts in the least.

The chief’s men kept well away from the boots and gun belt. LeBlanc pointed in the direction of the Dead House, which was how he had come to think of it—a proper noun, never just a storage building again.

Head over yonder, and look at the matches scattered everywhere. He shot the book right outta Betsy’s hand.

You could have tore it up yourself.

LeBlanc spat. Fine. Maybe if you keep your head up your ass, nothin can put a bullet in your brain. You done with us, Chief?

Bradley nodded. Y’all go on and see about Raymond. I know where to find you if I need anything else.

LeBlanc and McDowell walked to the rental. They got in the car and pulled away. LeBlanc looked up the hospital on the GPS. Another of this hole-in-the-road town’s many inconveniences—the hospital was five miles down Highway 16 toward De Leon.

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