Killer Triggers by Joe Kenda

Author:Joe Kenda
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2021-01-25T17:52:51+00:00

extradition joyride

I got the call that the killers of Sam Melena were in custody in Utah out in the middle of nowhere.

“Manny, my friend, go home, pack your bags with enough clothing for five days, and meet me at the airport in an hour,” I said to my partner. “We’re bringing those two assholes back for trial.”

Manny had a wife who had just returned to work after having a baby six weeks earlier. He hesitated because he was supposed to finish his shift, go home, and relieve the babysitter while his wife continued her shift.

“But my wife isn’t home yet, Joe,” he said.

“But, Manny, she isn’t going with us,” I replied. “It’s just you and me. I’ll have my wife call Judy and work it out. You are a big-boy detective now, and duty calls us to the Beehive State, home of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and all five hundred members of the Osmond Family.”

We flew into Salt Lake City that Friday night and then drove south two hours to the Carbon County Jail in Price, Utah, population just over seven thousand if you count all the dinosaur bones in their Prehistoric Museum.

We hit town too late to visit the jail, so we booked a room in a no-tell motel. No Ritz Carlton for us, even if there had been one within 150 miles. The Colorado Springs Police Department had a slim travel budget. We were lucky they didn’t make us spend the night under a viaduct.

“We’re getting up at four so we can get this show on the road,” I told Manny as I tucked him in for the night.

“In the morning?” he replied.

“Yeah, in the morning. We have to make a ten a.m. flight in Salt Lake City.”

About five hours later, I was up and at ’em as planned.

Manny was sleeping like a fucking stone.

I thought he was dead. He didn’t move when I told him to wake up. He didn’t move when I poked his shoulder or flicked his ear.

So I grabbed him and shook him.

Still nothing.

He left me no choice.

I reached down, gripped the steel legs of the bed, and turned it over with Detective Sleeping Beauty on board.

Manny came up out of his dead sleep with his nine-millimeter in his hand, ready to put a slug between my eyes.

Impressive autoresponse!

“Are you awake now, you SOB?” I said.

“Damn you, Kenda!” Then he laughed, a little.

We grabbed our suitcases and headed for the local hoosegow before the sun came up.

It was Saturday, and we hit a snag when we tried to check out the diabolical duo.

Frizzy-headed Vicki was all gung ho to go back to Colorado with us—even to face a first-degree murder charge—because, as she exclaimed, “I’ve never flown in no plane before!”

Lawrence, on the other hand, was playing hard to get. No stranger to the world of criminal law, he refused consent to go with us, forcing an extradition hearing.

Naturally, the county courthouse is closed on Saturdays, so we had to find a friendly judge, or at least one with a few minutes to spare before heading out to his favorite trout stream.

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