Read Online Defiled: The Sequel to Nailed Featuring John Tall Wolf (A Ron Ketchum Mystery Book 2) by Joseph Flynn - Free Book Online
Authors: Joseph Flynn
Tags: Mysteries & Thrillers
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laugh.
The mayor continued, “I feel I can indulge in a little humor at the moment because as far as the police can tell the immediate threat has passed. The bomb that was out on the lake has been taken away by the United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission with an escort from the California Highway Patrol.”
That earned another round of applause, seated this time.
Ron had the television on in his office, his lunch comfortably interred and awaiting digestion. It warmed his heart to hear fellow Goldstrikers cheer his act of courage. It also scared the hell out of him to flash back to that moment, the timer blinking on three.
The words what if were going to be uppermost in his thoughts for a long time.
Then a more practical notion kept him from obsessing on his mortality. As long as the mayor was addressing the townsfolk, he might as well make good use of the moment. He got up and headed to the civic auditorium.
Clay went on, “What the police haven’t done, what we can’t do in our country, is barge into everyone’s homes and make sure we’ve eliminated the threat of terrorism, and find out who was responsible for what happened this morning. So we have to ask all of you to keep your eyes open and let the police know of any situation you find genuinely suspicious.”
Clay then directed a predatory glare at every corner of the audience.
“We need everyone to be responsible . If you bear a grudge against a neighbor, a business competitor or a schoolmate, you will not call in a false report against that person. If you do, you will be weakening our civil defenses. You’ll be helping the bad guys. And I will personally kick your ass.”
No one took the mayor’s threat as anything but gospel truth.
Which would have made it a great exit line except …
Ron Ketchum stepped onto the stage. Undoubtedly the only man in town who would do so without explicit permission. He brought the audience to its feet again. Knowing how to roll with such a situation, the mayor intoned the obvious, “Chief of Police Ron Ketchum.”
Stepping back from the mike, he asked Ron, “Something new happen?”
Knowing Ron hadn’t stepped forward just to bask in the limelight.
“I want to ask people not to go boating after dark. We’ve had a warning from someone claiming to be the bomber. He says we got lucky and he’s going to try again. Could be he’ll try the same way as before.”
Clay nodded. “That’s all?”
“You’re not going to mention Hale Tibbot?”
“I don’t do double features,” Clay said.
The chief was a bit surprised but said, “Good.”
The applause had gone on for ninety seconds by now.
“Say goodbye,” the mayor told him.
Ron waved farewell. That earned him another fifteen seconds or so.
The mayor informed the town of what the chief of police had requested.
Made sure in every way but a vote of the town council that it had the force of law.
Clay returned to his office in the Muni Complex, sat down on the sofa in the room and indulged in a rare moment of self-doubt. Had he made a mistake by not letting the town know about Hale Tibbot’s murder? He hated it when government kept secrets from people.
It was bad enough when Washington had to keep things under wraps so soldiers and spies could go about their business without getting killed. At the state and municipal level, though, he thought government should be as transparent as alpine air. So why the hell had he held back?
Because people would think he’d killed Tibbot?
He wouldn’t blame them if they did because —
The phone in Clay’s office rang. There was a receiver on the end table next to him. The caller ID showed: Bureau of Indian Affairs, Washington, DC. He knew who had to be calling.
“Hello, Marlene. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Marlene Flower Moon had been introduced to Clay when he was in pre-production for a film. He was looking for someone who knew the folkways of the Mescalero Apaches. The movie’s
The mayor continued, “I feel I can indulge in a little humor at the moment because as far as the police can tell the immediate threat has passed. The bomb that was out on the lake has been taken away by the United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission with an escort from the California Highway Patrol.”
That earned another round of applause, seated this time.
Ron had the television on in his office, his lunch comfortably interred and awaiting digestion. It warmed his heart to hear fellow Goldstrikers cheer his act of courage. It also scared the hell out of him to flash back to that moment, the timer blinking on three.
The words what if were going to be uppermost in his thoughts for a long time.
Then a more practical notion kept him from obsessing on his mortality. As long as the mayor was addressing the townsfolk, he might as well make good use of the moment. He got up and headed to the civic auditorium.
Clay went on, “What the police haven’t done, what we can’t do in our country, is barge into everyone’s homes and make sure we’ve eliminated the threat of terrorism, and find out who was responsible for what happened this morning. So we have to ask all of you to keep your eyes open and let the police know of any situation you find genuinely suspicious.”
Clay then directed a predatory glare at every corner of the audience.
“We need everyone to be responsible . If you bear a grudge against a neighbor, a business competitor or a schoolmate, you will not call in a false report against that person. If you do, you will be weakening our civil defenses. You’ll be helping the bad guys. And I will personally kick your ass.”
No one took the mayor’s threat as anything but gospel truth.
Which would have made it a great exit line except …
Ron Ketchum stepped onto the stage. Undoubtedly the only man in town who would do so without explicit permission. He brought the audience to its feet again. Knowing how to roll with such a situation, the mayor intoned the obvious, “Chief of Police Ron Ketchum.”
Stepping back from the mike, he asked Ron, “Something new happen?”
Knowing Ron hadn’t stepped forward just to bask in the limelight.
“I want to ask people not to go boating after dark. We’ve had a warning from someone claiming to be the bomber. He says we got lucky and he’s going to try again. Could be he’ll try the same way as before.”
Clay nodded. “That’s all?”
“You’re not going to mention Hale Tibbot?”
“I don’t do double features,” Clay said.
The chief was a bit surprised but said, “Good.”
The applause had gone on for ninety seconds by now.
“Say goodbye,” the mayor told him.
Ron waved farewell. That earned him another fifteen seconds or so.
The mayor informed the town of what the chief of police had requested.
Made sure in every way but a vote of the town council that it had the force of law.
Clay returned to his office in the Muni Complex, sat down on the sofa in the room and indulged in a rare moment of self-doubt. Had he made a mistake by not letting the town know about Hale Tibbot’s murder? He hated it when government kept secrets from people.
It was bad enough when Washington had to keep things under wraps so soldiers and spies could go about their business without getting killed. At the state and municipal level, though, he thought government should be as transparent as alpine air. So why the hell had he held back?
Because people would think he’d killed Tibbot?
He wouldn’t blame them if they did because —
The phone in Clay’s office rang. There was a receiver on the end table next to him. The caller ID showed: Bureau of Indian Affairs, Washington, DC. He knew who had to be calling.
“Hello, Marlene. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Marlene Flower Moon had been introduced to Clay when he was in pre-production for a film. He was looking for someone who knew the folkways of the Mescalero Apaches. The movie’s
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