The Dead Detective by William Heffernan

Author:William Heffernan [Heffernan, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook
Publisher: akashic books
Published: 2010-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bobby Joe Waldo looked one shade paler than death as he entered his father’s office and took a seat next to Harry Doyle. It was ten o’clock on a clear, balmy Florida morning; the only storm clouds those that had gathered in the eyes of the Reverend John Waldo. The stout, unsmiling minister now turned those eyes on his son.

“Detective Doyle tells me that one of our cars was involved in an accident a couple of weeks back, and that it took place in the parking lot of some strip club in Tampa. You know anything about that Bobby Joe?”

Harry would have bet against the probability, but Bobby Joe’s complexion became even paler.

“I do,” Bobby Joe said in a soft, raspy voice, each word a separate croak.

“I think you better tell us about it.”

Bobby Joe nodded. “I guess I should of tol’ you before.”

“Yes, you should have. So let’s make up for it now.” His father’s eyes were still hard on him.

“I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but it wasn’t all that long ago,” Bobby Joe began. “The church got a phone call that one of our cars had been in an accident and the receptionist who took it passed it in to me.” There was a film of sweat forming on Bobby Joe’s upper lip despite the air-conditioning in his father’s office.

“When I took the call I realized that the woman was an exotic dancer, and that the place she claimed the accident happened was the parking lot of a strip club.” He gave his father a small, weak shrug. “Well, I decided the best thing for the church was to just pay this woman off.” He glanced first at Harry, then back at his father. “I mean there was no way to know who had taken the car, and if they had taken it to where she said the accident happened.”

Harry leaned forward in his chair. “Was the car damaged? Your car, I mean?”

“There was a scratch on the right front fender. It’s still there. It was so small I haven’t gotten around to getting it fixed.” Bobby Joe used his thumb and index finger to wipe the sweat from his upper lip.

“What about the dancer’s car?” The question came from Reverend Waldo this time.

“She said there was a scratch on the driver’s door of her car. From what she told me the paint left on her car matched the color of paint on ours. She told me she always wrote down the license plate numbers of cars parked next to hers because the club has so many customers who leave drunk. Everything she said seemed legitimate, so I just told her to get an estimate. She called back when she got it and I took money from the automobile maintenance account and paid her.” He looked anxiously at his father for some sign of approval. “Daddy, I just thought it best that we get rid of this as fast as possible. There was no way of knowing who took the car.

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