Read Online Dead Hot Mama by Victoria Houston - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Houston
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kitchen stove.
“Dad? Is that you?”
“Find everything you need, hon?” The door to Mallory’s bedroom was open. She looked sleepy and cozy, propped up against the pillows with a book in her hands. “We’ll go find a tree right after I help Lew in the morning. Around ten or so? You sleep in, enjoy your coffee….”
“Sounds great, Dad. I’ll dress real warm, too, so we can take our time. You know me—I want just the right tree.” She gave him a happy smile. “See you when you get back from town then. And, by the way, those dentures you left on the kitchen table? I put them up on the shelf near the cookbooks. Couldn’t stand the idea of those greeting me first thing in the morning. Hope you don’t mind.”
Minutes later, after cracking the window very slightly, Osborne slipped under his quilt. He smiled at the thought of the busy morning ahead. And the relief he felt knowing Mallory was comfortable in the room next to his was palpable. That was all he ever wanted to do for his children and their children: keep them safe.
He woke with a start. The clock beside his bed read 3:43 a.m. Moonlight filled the room, making it easy to see that Mike still slept soundly on his bed in the corner. Osborne lay perfectly still wondering what it was that had awakened him. Then he heard it: the soft put-put of Ray’s pickup moving up the rutted slope that served as his driveway.
What on earth could he be doing at this hour? Osborne waited, half-expecting a knock on the door. He got up to use the bathroom, then checked the other bedroom. Mallory was sleeping soundly on her side, curled up with her feet tucked under. Lifting an extra quilt from a chair in the corner, Osborne gave it a shake, flipped it up and over, and let it drift down onto his daughter as lightly as a dry fly onto a still pool.
His final thought as he drifted back into sleep was of Bruce. Wouldn’t surprise him if that guy was still awake—searching computer files for the details of Code 2116B.
ten
Some of the best fishing is done not in water but in print.
—Sparse Grey Hackle
“Pecore is out,” said Lew. Osborne reached for a kitchen chair and sat down. It was ten after six and he had been pouring his first cup of coffee when he grabbed for the phone on its first ring.
“Fired? It’s less than ten hours since you last saw him, Lew. What on earth—” Osborne shook his head. How much trouble can a late middle-aged man get into after dark in a town of thirty-one hundred people? With an outside temperature of twenty-three below zero?
“He doesn’t know it yet. I can’t call Arne Steadman until after eight, and as mayor, Arne has to be the one to fire him—but I can’t imagine he won’t be out once I talk to Arne. So don’t say anything if you run into him before then.”
“Don’t worry about that. But, Jeez Louise, Lew. What happened?”
“He showed up at Marty’s Bar about eleven o’clock last night with eight-by-tens of that poor girl. Passed ‘em around. I got a call from someone who was there.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I just hope her family, whoever they are, never hears about it. Unforgivable. And you and I both know it isn’t the first time …”
She was right. More than once, Osborne’s coffee crowd at McDonald’s had heard rumors of Pecore misbehaving with photos taken of women under official circumstances. But only rumors; no one had ever caught him red-handed.
“The good news is Loon Lake will finally have a decent coroner. If I play my cards right with our city fathers, we may even get a professional.”
“Careful, Lew. It’s still a political appointment.”
“You’re right, Doc, but I’m thinking positive. Let me know if you have any thoughts on a good replacement. This catches me a little unprepared. And speaking of being prepared, I’m hoping the four of us—you, me, Bruce, and Ray—can go over a few things this morning before we all head off in different directions. Any chance you
“Dad? Is that you?”
“Find everything you need, hon?” The door to Mallory’s bedroom was open. She looked sleepy and cozy, propped up against the pillows with a book in her hands. “We’ll go find a tree right after I help Lew in the morning. Around ten or so? You sleep in, enjoy your coffee….”
“Sounds great, Dad. I’ll dress real warm, too, so we can take our time. You know me—I want just the right tree.” She gave him a happy smile. “See you when you get back from town then. And, by the way, those dentures you left on the kitchen table? I put them up on the shelf near the cookbooks. Couldn’t stand the idea of those greeting me first thing in the morning. Hope you don’t mind.”
Minutes later, after cracking the window very slightly, Osborne slipped under his quilt. He smiled at the thought of the busy morning ahead. And the relief he felt knowing Mallory was comfortable in the room next to his was palpable. That was all he ever wanted to do for his children and their children: keep them safe.
He woke with a start. The clock beside his bed read 3:43 a.m. Moonlight filled the room, making it easy to see that Mike still slept soundly on his bed in the corner. Osborne lay perfectly still wondering what it was that had awakened him. Then he heard it: the soft put-put of Ray’s pickup moving up the rutted slope that served as his driveway.
What on earth could he be doing at this hour? Osborne waited, half-expecting a knock on the door. He got up to use the bathroom, then checked the other bedroom. Mallory was sleeping soundly on her side, curled up with her feet tucked under. Lifting an extra quilt from a chair in the corner, Osborne gave it a shake, flipped it up and over, and let it drift down onto his daughter as lightly as a dry fly onto a still pool.
His final thought as he drifted back into sleep was of Bruce. Wouldn’t surprise him if that guy was still awake—searching computer files for the details of Code 2116B.
ten
Some of the best fishing is done not in water but in print.
—Sparse Grey Hackle
“Pecore is out,” said Lew. Osborne reached for a kitchen chair and sat down. It was ten after six and he had been pouring his first cup of coffee when he grabbed for the phone on its first ring.
“Fired? It’s less than ten hours since you last saw him, Lew. What on earth—” Osborne shook his head. How much trouble can a late middle-aged man get into after dark in a town of thirty-one hundred people? With an outside temperature of twenty-three below zero?
“He doesn’t know it yet. I can’t call Arne Steadman until after eight, and as mayor, Arne has to be the one to fire him—but I can’t imagine he won’t be out once I talk to Arne. So don’t say anything if you run into him before then.”
“Don’t worry about that. But, Jeez Louise, Lew. What happened?”
“He showed up at Marty’s Bar about eleven o’clock last night with eight-by-tens of that poor girl. Passed ‘em around. I got a call from someone who was there.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I just hope her family, whoever they are, never hears about it. Unforgivable. And you and I both know it isn’t the first time …”
She was right. More than once, Osborne’s coffee crowd at McDonald’s had heard rumors of Pecore misbehaving with photos taken of women under official circumstances. But only rumors; no one had ever caught him red-handed.
“The good news is Loon Lake will finally have a decent coroner. If I play my cards right with our city fathers, we may even get a professional.”
“Careful, Lew. It’s still a political appointment.”
“You’re right, Doc, but I’m thinking positive. Let me know if you have any thoughts on a good replacement. This catches me a little unprepared. And speaking of being prepared, I’m hoping the four of us—you, me, Bruce, and Ray—can go over a few things this morning before we all head off in different directions. Any chance you
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