Read Online Points West (A Butterscotch Jones Mystery Book 5) by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online
Authors: Melanie Jackson
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explosion. Chuck wasn’t positive, but he
thought that the entire floor lifted several feet off the ground before
dropping back down. Dust and big hunks of filler were blasted from the chinks
between the logs of the structure to rain down on the townsfolk. The lectern
fell to the floor again and Chuck had to balance himself against the wall to keep
from joining the damaged piece of furniture on the floor.
“What was that?” Big John asked, suspiciously examining his
gavel as if that had been the source of the blast.
Chuck was the first out the door of the building, followed
in quick succession by the others in attendance. He was too late to witness the
huge fireball that accompanied the explosion, but in plenty of time to become
enveloped by the resulting choking plume of smoke that spread over Main Street.
* * *
Sasha pulled his face out of the snowbank in which he’d landed headfirst to take a mighty inhalation of breath. He’d had
all of the wind knocked out of him by the concussive impact of the explosion
which had launched him thirty feet through the air. Pushing himself upright, he
was able to quickly assess that his body was in good working order. His next
concern was for his new friend.
“Horace!” he called, looking all around him for any sign of
a body.
He didn’t see a body, but he did see something burning not
ten feet away. It wasn’t until he’d approached that he was able to identify the
back of Horace’s down jacket blazing away in the snow. Sasha rushed to Horace’s
coat and shoveled snow onto it to douse the flames. With the fire out, he was
able to discern that there was the body of a man beneath the coat. He reached
underneath and flipped the body over in fear for what he might find.
Laughter. That’s what he found. Horace was now lying on his back laughing up at him. And
the laughter was contagious. Sasha soon joined in.
“Dad!” he heard a voice scold. “What have you done this
time?”
Sasha looked behind him and saw the Mountie standing in the
snow with his hands resting on his hips in a posture of disapproval. The sight
of his upset son only made Horace laugh all the harder. Sasha fell onto his
back in the snow and joined him, thankful that they had both survived the
explosion.
* * *
“Things are out of hand,” Chuck said to me that night as we
got ready for bed. “I don’t want to have my father here but don’t dare try to
send him home either.”
“He wouldn’t go anyway,” I said, sympathizing with Chuck but
trying to be realistic. “And at this point it might be best to take him into
our confidences—at least a little. I mean, I don’t know if we can trust him on
his own.”
“No,” Chuck agreed gloomily. “What the hell was he thinking?
Something happened when my mother died.”
“He lost his anchor.”
“And has drifted into Looney Land.”
I made myself squash a smile. I have to admit to sometimes
finding humor in dark places. You have to if all you have are dark places. But
I don’t always share my thoughts with Chuck, whose soul is still lighter than
mine.
“Well, cheer up. He wasn’t hurt and now we have an excuse
for a missing body if we don’t want to turn over Brian’s remains.”
Chuck blinked, but he caught on at once.
“Blame the explosion on Brian?”
“Why not. No
snowmobile, no body, no forensic evidence of any kind.”
“Hm.”
“And we had a successful meeting today.”
“We did? It seemed like chaos.”
“They always do.” I took a deep breath. “And I have been
thinking about what we should do with that memory stick.”
I was trying to sound upbeat and sell Chuck on my plan.
“What? Let my father blow it up too?”
“Well, that’s an option. Maybe even a good one. But I was
thinking of something else. Of someone else.”
Chuck looked at me.
“Desoto?” he asked. He meant Agent Desoto of the Federal
Bureau of Investigation.
“Well, he would have the skills to break the
thought that the entire floor lifted several feet off the ground before
dropping back down. Dust and big hunks of filler were blasted from the chinks
between the logs of the structure to rain down on the townsfolk. The lectern
fell to the floor again and Chuck had to balance himself against the wall to keep
from joining the damaged piece of furniture on the floor.
“What was that?” Big John asked, suspiciously examining his
gavel as if that had been the source of the blast.
Chuck was the first out the door of the building, followed
in quick succession by the others in attendance. He was too late to witness the
huge fireball that accompanied the explosion, but in plenty of time to become
enveloped by the resulting choking plume of smoke that spread over Main Street.
* * *
Sasha pulled his face out of the snowbank in which he’d landed headfirst to take a mighty inhalation of breath. He’d had
all of the wind knocked out of him by the concussive impact of the explosion
which had launched him thirty feet through the air. Pushing himself upright, he
was able to quickly assess that his body was in good working order. His next
concern was for his new friend.
“Horace!” he called, looking all around him for any sign of
a body.
He didn’t see a body, but he did see something burning not
ten feet away. It wasn’t until he’d approached that he was able to identify the
back of Horace’s down jacket blazing away in the snow. Sasha rushed to Horace’s
coat and shoveled snow onto it to douse the flames. With the fire out, he was
able to discern that there was the body of a man beneath the coat. He reached
underneath and flipped the body over in fear for what he might find.
Laughter. That’s what he found. Horace was now lying on his back laughing up at him. And
the laughter was contagious. Sasha soon joined in.
“Dad!” he heard a voice scold. “What have you done this
time?”
Sasha looked behind him and saw the Mountie standing in the
snow with his hands resting on his hips in a posture of disapproval. The sight
of his upset son only made Horace laugh all the harder. Sasha fell onto his
back in the snow and joined him, thankful that they had both survived the
explosion.
* * *
“Things are out of hand,” Chuck said to me that night as we
got ready for bed. “I don’t want to have my father here but don’t dare try to
send him home either.”
“He wouldn’t go anyway,” I said, sympathizing with Chuck but
trying to be realistic. “And at this point it might be best to take him into
our confidences—at least a little. I mean, I don’t know if we can trust him on
his own.”
“No,” Chuck agreed gloomily. “What the hell was he thinking?
Something happened when my mother died.”
“He lost his anchor.”
“And has drifted into Looney Land.”
I made myself squash a smile. I have to admit to sometimes
finding humor in dark places. You have to if all you have are dark places. But
I don’t always share my thoughts with Chuck, whose soul is still lighter than
mine.
“Well, cheer up. He wasn’t hurt and now we have an excuse
for a missing body if we don’t want to turn over Brian’s remains.”
Chuck blinked, but he caught on at once.
“Blame the explosion on Brian?”
“Why not. No
snowmobile, no body, no forensic evidence of any kind.”
“Hm.”
“And we had a successful meeting today.”
“We did? It seemed like chaos.”
“They always do.” I took a deep breath. “And I have been
thinking about what we should do with that memory stick.”
I was trying to sound upbeat and sell Chuck on my plan.
“What? Let my father blow it up too?”
“Well, that’s an option. Maybe even a good one. But I was
thinking of something else. Of someone else.”
Chuck looked at me.
“Desoto?” he asked. He meant Agent Desoto of the Federal
Bureau of Investigation.
“Well, he would have the skills to break the
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