For the Just by Ken Lindsey

Author:Ken Lindsey [Lindsey, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9: The Wolf

After hanging up with Ford, I called David at the police station. I knew he was at work today because he had court for a big case the P.D. closed several months back. Dave took a personal interest in the case because the guy got busted after murdering his wife, and once they got him in the system, they found he had another wife die under mysterious circumstances in Colorado six years before.

It was all too familiar and I tried to get him to stay away from the case, but since when does anyone listen to me?

“Lieutenant Reeves,” he answered in his big bad cop voice.

“Hey big papa, I need you to do me a favor.”

“I’m busy, Gav.”

“Busy with what? How’d the closing arguments go?”

He responded with a growl.

“That bad, huh?”

“Public defender had them eating out of her hand. No verdict yet, so there’s still hope. Just not much. What do you want, Gavin?”

“Can I get you to run a name up the flagpole, let me know if anyone salutes it?”

“Sure.”

I gave David the pastor’s name, address, and the address of the church, not really expecting he’d bring anything back for me. After we got off the phone I sent Kara home so she didn’t have to see Ford. She hugged me before she left, and asked me to call her later. Hopefully that was a sign that she wasn’t too pissed at me.

After that, I had a smoke and wrote up half a page of notes about Mrs. Anderson and her actions on the day I followed her. Grocery shopping, coffee with a group of similarly aged women, and then home, where I clearly heard the vacuum running for a good twenty minutes.

It was all bullshit, but how could the right and honorable Pastor Tim know that?

I thought about pouring myself another Jameson, but decided Kara was probably right in her assertion that I didn’t need another drink at work today. I hired her because she’s smart, so I might as well listen once in a while.

I was about to light another cigarette when I heard the door to the outer office open and close. “Hello? English, are you here?”

I didn’t like the way he said my name, all aggressive and pissy, but I decided to respond professionally, “Yes, sir. Come on back to the office.”

I stood as he walked through the outer-office, grumbling. He gave me a half nod when he entered, and ignored the hand I stuck out in greeting as he sat across the desk from me.

“Let’s get to it,” he said, the muscles in his jaw clenching between each syllable.

“Right,” I said, sitting back down. “Sorry, I had to let my assistant go home early today.”

“What does that have to do with my case?”

“Well, nothing.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. I’m not very happy with the level of service you’ve provided thus far, and I’d like to leave this place before my clothes permanently stink of your cigarettes.”

It’d been less than a full minute of interaction with this twat-waffle, and I was already biting my tongue.

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