The Conan Flagg Mysteries: Bundle #2 by M. K. Wren

Author:M. K. Wren [Wren, M. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2015-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Conan was not and never had been a willing early riser, and since he had spent a good part of the night on his feet making repeated trips downstairs to the library, to the bar, to the kitchen, and another part of it chain-smoking at his bedroom window while he watched the moon descend to a golden rendezvous with its reflection, he didn ’t welcome the telephone call that routed him from hard-won sleep.

He swore and groped and fumbled for the phone on the bedside table. The illuminated numbers on the clock informed him that it was exactly 8:00 A.M.

“Oh, my God…hello? ”

After a momentary hesitation, a masculine voice asked, “Is this Mr. Conan Flagg? ”

“I think so. Yes. ” Then abruptly he pulled himself up into a sitting position. “How did you get this number? ”

Another hesitation, then, “Oh —I see. The number is unlisted, isn ’t it? Well, the local police —”

“All right, who are you? ”

“My name is Luther Dix. I’m assistant district director in the Portland office of the IRS. ”

Conan wondered if he expected a round of applause. “Yes, Mr. Dix. ”

“I’m in Holliday Beach, and it ’s imperative that I speak to you, Mr. Flagg. I’ll be there in ten minutes. That is, if you can spare me a little of your time. ”

Conan was at a loss for words, which was probably fortunate. It was clear from his tone that Luther Dix didn ’t consider it remotely possible that Conan wouldn ’t spare his time, but what galled Conan was the blithe assumption that all the world punched in at eight o ’clock.

“I don ’t conduct business in my home, ” he said in as businesslike a tone as he could manage. “My office is at the Holliday Beach Bookshop. It opens at ten. I’ll be happy to arrange my schedule so I can see you then. ”

“But, Mr. Flagg, I really must —”

“Oh, it ’s quite all right, Mr. Dix. No trouble at all. ” He smiled through that and immediately hung up, restraining the impulse to slam the receiver down.

Then he rose and stalked out of the room, neglecting to put on a robe, but oblivious to the morning chill despite his stark state. He padded along the balcony over the living room to the guest room and found the door open, the room empty, and the bed made after Steve ’s fashion.

Dix wasn ’t the only one who punched in at eight o ’clock. Half an hour later, showered, shaved, dressed, and sitting at the kitchen window with a cup of coffee and a telephone, Conan looked out at the crystal day and conceded that the early light on the breakers did perhaps have something to recommend it.

He found Steve Travers at the first number he called: the Holliday Beach police station.

“Good morning, Steve. ”

“Conan? Is that you? Holy mud, it ’s only —”

“I know what time it is. I have an appointment at ten with assistant et cetera et cetera Luther Dix.

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