The Dead Never Forget: A Bragg Thriller by Jack Lynch

Author:Jack Lynch
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Brash Books
Published: 2014-09-01T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

The guys who’d lost their pants must have gotten a ride back into town. I didn’t pass them on the road. In Sand Valley itself, the bustling spirit seemed to have died out. There weren’t many people out and around. It looked as if they practiced the quaint custom of siesta. Businesses and shops along Nevada Street in the block just before the Sky Lodge were all closed up tight. There were only a couple of cars parked along the street. Mine made three. A worried-looking little fellow with a thin mustache and sweat on his forehead was locking the front door of a jewelry and gift shop. I crossed over to him.

“Hi, there.”

He hadn’t seen me approach. When he came back down onto the sidewalk and turned around I smiled. “Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“What the hell do you think?”

“Guess so. How come everybody down at this end of town is closed up?”

“I don’t know about everybody else,” he said, “but about twenty minutes ago two of the biggest, meanest-looking oxen I have ever seen walked into my store with some wooden staves and told me to be locked up and gone within ten minutes or they’d be back and break everything in sight, including my arms and legs. Well, I didn’t make it within ten minutes, but when they came back and saw I was working as hard as I could to get the expensive stuff back into the safe, they gave me a little extension. They said not to let them catch me here again when they came back, though, and that’s who I thought it was when you said hello to me, and my God, you bet it startled me and now I’m leaving.”

“You’re just going to let a couple of strange goons scare you off like that?”

“You bet I am. If you were as puny as I am, mister, you’d do the same. You have to be ready to roll with the punches in this town, and that’s what I’m doing. Rolling. Good-bye.”

“But why don’t you call the cops?” I yelled after him.

“You call them,” he cried over his shoulder.

I walked up the street until I came to a phone booth. I dialed the police number, told the man on duty who I was and asked to speak with Merle Coffey.

“He isn’t in right now. I’m Sergeant Stoddard. Can I help you?”

“I’d rather speak to the chief. Know when he’ll be back?”

“No, I don’t. Look, Bragg, I’m in charge around here right now. Do you have a complaint?”

“Not really, why do you ask?”

“Because you’re about the tenth person who’s called for the chief in the past fifteen minutes. They all sounded just like you. All questions and no answers.”

“Sorry, Sergeant, but I think it’d be worth your while to try getting in touch with the chief, wherever he is.”

“I’ve been trying to, but nobody answers the phone out there.”

“Out where?”

“The Truck Stop. Ma Leary called and asked for the chief and Lieutenant Trapp to pay a visit.

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