Hellmouth by Meredith Anthony

Author:Meredith Anthony [Anthony, Meredith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781524672904
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Published: 2017-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Beau steered the big yellow Buick over to the Benedict County courthouse and parked in front, at the red line. He heaved his bulk out of the car and hitched up his belt. He didn’t like doing this, but it was the right thing and Beau always did the right thing. When he was able.

He strode across the big marble lobby under the dome and sketched a salute to the girl at the desk behind the door at the back that said County Offices. He kept going and she didn’t try to stop him. Everyone knew Beau and few questioned his right to be anywhere in the county.

He opened a door to a conference room that had been commandeered as the Jonkowski investigation center. FBI agents sat at makeshift desks, making phone calls. Uniformed staties sorted documents around the big conference table, which had been pushed to one side. Beau saw two of Andy’s officers making copies at a new copier leased specially. They glanced at him, both looking sheepish. He saw the local FBI man, Frank Madlowe, in the back, talking to a statie. Frank nodded at Beau but didn’t break off his conversation.

Beau made his way back to Frank.

“Judge,” Frank said, nodding again. The high-ranking statie he was talking to glared at Beau and kept talking.

“Minute of your time, Frank?” Beau murmured.

“Frank’s busy,” the statie said with a scowl.

“Can I talk to you a little later, Beau.” Frank sounded apologetic.

“A lot later,” corrected the statie. Frank shrugged.

“No problem at all,” Beau drawled. He held out his hand and Frank shook it. “Whenever you get a minute.”

The statie glared some more.

Beau walked back out of the room. No one spoke to him, although one of the Benedict officers held up a hand in farewell. The man didn’t look happy.

Beau got back in the Buick and sat a minute. Then he shrugged and powered up the big car. He’d tried, anyway.

* * *

Back at his office, Lucy buzzed Beau. She said a caller was saying he had information about the killings in Benedict County, but wouldn’t identify himself or talk to anyone but Beau.

“Help you?” Beau said. He leaned back in his chair.

A muffled voice squawked something unintelligible.

“Wait a minute, son. I can’t understand you.”

A garbled mutter, then the voice, the Southern accent pronounced, said, “Judge, you better stop looking so far afield into those killings at that white house, hear?”

“I certainly do hear,” said Beau pleasantly. “And why would I want to stop looking?”

“‘Cause you’re off course, that’s why. And you’ll end up dead as them and their dog if you don’t stay closer to home.”

Beau sat up, his chair legs hitting the floor with a thump. They had decided not to release the detail about the dog, in case they needed to verify the authenticity of a call like this one.

“Well, son, why don’t you come on down to see me and we can talk over this investigation?”

“Think I’m stupid?” The voice was turned angry. “You’ll be sorry, you small town cracker.

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