Read Online Allegiance (Joe Logan Book 4) by Michael Kerr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Kerr
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bait, if we need to. You should have taken the brother, not whacked the couple.”
Lennox had no time to come up with a lame-ass excuse. The line was now dead.
Logan left the room, got in the car and drove a few blocks to a twenty-four hour pizza joint that they had passed on the way in. He ordered a family-size pie and watched the breaking news on the wall-mounted TV. Same old, same old: shit going down in the Middle-East, and next up was details of a guy who’d gone berserk in Copley Place, a Boston shopping mall, and stabbed eight shoppers, killing three of them. It was believed that he had been released from a psychiatric hospital two days previously, but obviously still had mental issues, or had, up to the second that a patrol officer shot him dead in front of the waterfall on level one.
As the teenager placed the boxed pie on the counter, a local talking head appeared on screen behind him and gave brief details of a double homicide at a house in a residential district of Melrose. Patrol cars with flashing red and blue LED light bars were parked in the street, and the guy with the mike said that the shooting of a middle-aged couple had come as a terrible shock to neighbors. There were a lot of words but no further details. Logan knew that the victims had been Margie’s brother and his wife, and that the guy he had spoken to on the phone had been responsible. He paid for the pie and drove back to the motel, deep in thought. Fallon’s crew needed a lead. They had no way of finding Margie, Benny or him, but would keep looking. What would their next move be?
Della! He pulled into the motel lot, switched off the engine, got out of the Taurus and went back to open the trunk. Took a pay-as-you-go phone from a pocket of the rucksack and walk across to the room, to knock and wait. He saw a drape twitch at the window, and a couple of seconds later Benny opened the door.
“Here,” Logan said, handing the pizza to Benny, before going through to Margie’s room, after first tapping on the door and waiting for her to tell him to come in.
“Give me Della’s phone number,” he said, switching the cell on and punching it in as Margie said it.
Della went over to the counter in the kitchen and picked up her beeping cell. No caller ID, again. Curiosity killed the cat , she thought as, against her better judgment, she accepted the call.
“Della?”
A pause: “Joe?”
“Yeah. Are you okay?”
“Not really. I got a call from some guy trying to pass himself off as a cop. He was trying to locate Margie. He knew my name. I said I’d call him back and he disconnected. I rang the police and they said that they would try and trace the call, and send a car by. I goofed, Joe. I told whoever it was that I was Margie’s next-door neighbor. What should I do now?”
“Try to stay calm,” Logan said. “Make sure that the house is locked up as tight as a drum, get hold of a flashlight, switch off all the lights, and then turn off the breaker panel and go down to the basement.”
“It’s in the basement.”
“Fine. Stay down there and arm yourself with something you feel comfortable with. If anyone comes down the steps, hit them as hard as you can. I’ll be there in a couple of hours’, max. Take your cell with you. I’ll call when I arrive to let you know that it’s me breaking in. Just hold on, Della.”
Logan ended the call, told Margie what had happened, and also relayed what had been reported on the TV. There was no easy way to say it. When he had been a cop he had knocked at doors on many occasions to break the news to people that someone that they loved would not be coming home. It had always been the worst part of the job.
Benny wasn’t hungry. He would rather have had a joint, but made do with a cigarette. Margie felt sick to the stomach. The confirmation that Tony and Ellen were dead was almost too much to incorporate. Logan picked
Lennox had no time to come up with a lame-ass excuse. The line was now dead.
Logan left the room, got in the car and drove a few blocks to a twenty-four hour pizza joint that they had passed on the way in. He ordered a family-size pie and watched the breaking news on the wall-mounted TV. Same old, same old: shit going down in the Middle-East, and next up was details of a guy who’d gone berserk in Copley Place, a Boston shopping mall, and stabbed eight shoppers, killing three of them. It was believed that he had been released from a psychiatric hospital two days previously, but obviously still had mental issues, or had, up to the second that a patrol officer shot him dead in front of the waterfall on level one.
As the teenager placed the boxed pie on the counter, a local talking head appeared on screen behind him and gave brief details of a double homicide at a house in a residential district of Melrose. Patrol cars with flashing red and blue LED light bars were parked in the street, and the guy with the mike said that the shooting of a middle-aged couple had come as a terrible shock to neighbors. There were a lot of words but no further details. Logan knew that the victims had been Margie’s brother and his wife, and that the guy he had spoken to on the phone had been responsible. He paid for the pie and drove back to the motel, deep in thought. Fallon’s crew needed a lead. They had no way of finding Margie, Benny or him, but would keep looking. What would their next move be?
Della! He pulled into the motel lot, switched off the engine, got out of the Taurus and went back to open the trunk. Took a pay-as-you-go phone from a pocket of the rucksack and walk across to the room, to knock and wait. He saw a drape twitch at the window, and a couple of seconds later Benny opened the door.
“Here,” Logan said, handing the pizza to Benny, before going through to Margie’s room, after first tapping on the door and waiting for her to tell him to come in.
“Give me Della’s phone number,” he said, switching the cell on and punching it in as Margie said it.
Della went over to the counter in the kitchen and picked up her beeping cell. No caller ID, again. Curiosity killed the cat , she thought as, against her better judgment, she accepted the call.
“Della?”
A pause: “Joe?”
“Yeah. Are you okay?”
“Not really. I got a call from some guy trying to pass himself off as a cop. He was trying to locate Margie. He knew my name. I said I’d call him back and he disconnected. I rang the police and they said that they would try and trace the call, and send a car by. I goofed, Joe. I told whoever it was that I was Margie’s next-door neighbor. What should I do now?”
“Try to stay calm,” Logan said. “Make sure that the house is locked up as tight as a drum, get hold of a flashlight, switch off all the lights, and then turn off the breaker panel and go down to the basement.”
“It’s in the basement.”
“Fine. Stay down there and arm yourself with something you feel comfortable with. If anyone comes down the steps, hit them as hard as you can. I’ll be there in a couple of hours’, max. Take your cell with you. I’ll call when I arrive to let you know that it’s me breaking in. Just hold on, Della.”
Logan ended the call, told Margie what had happened, and also relayed what had been reported on the TV. There was no easy way to say it. When he had been a cop he had knocked at doors on many occasions to break the news to people that someone that they loved would not be coming home. It had always been the worst part of the job.
Benny wasn’t hungry. He would rather have had a joint, but made do with a cigarette. Margie felt sick to the stomach. The confirmation that Tony and Ellen were dead was almost too much to incorporate. Logan picked
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