Read Online Skull Creek Stakeout (Caden Chronicles, The) by Eddie Jones - Free Book Online Page A

while he remained on the phone, listening. Judging from his expression, the call was not going well. He pointed to a chair and I sat.
    The call ended and he looked across the desk. “That was the mayor’s office telling me it’ll be another six weeks before they can break ground on our new law enforcement center. We were supposed to be in our new building last winter, but ourfunding got cut at the state level so here we are.” McAlhany aimed his coal-black eyes at me and said, “What can I do for you?”
    I passed him one of my
Cool Ghoul Gazette
business cards. The lieutenant studied the front, then turned it over. His eyebrows arched when he read the note from the marshal of Deadwood.
    “Deadwood Canyon. I think I remember something about that case. The ghost town murder that wasn’t, then was. The way I heard it, a boy identified the killer by watching TV.”
    “I compare evidence against police and detective shows,” I said, trying to sound calmer than I was.
    Dad had warned me to stay out of trouble and keep my mouth in check, and here I was sitting across from the one guy who could lock me up if I said the wrong thing.
    “After I analyze the shows that best fit the crime, I tell the authorities who I think committed the murder. Or try to. Most don’t respond to my emails or calls. It helps to watch a lot of TV.”
    “I know a few of my officers who might be candidates for that type of work. Can’t keep them off their smartphones long enough to do their jobs.”
    “I’d be happy to give them a demonstration, if you like.”
    I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me or truly interested in my work, so I kicked the conversation in a different direction.
    “McAlhany? Is that Irish?”
    He chuckled. “I know. The hair and eyes throw people off. My mother was a full-blooded Cherokee. She worked most of her life at the casino outside Waynesville and wanted more for her son than reservation work and working the tourist trade. Married my father when she was in her thirties. He was an ex-New York cop, pushing fifty. Spent his whole life in New York’s 114th Precinct. Died of a heart attack my sophomore year at Notre Dame. But you didn’t come by to hear my story.”
    I shifted uneasily in my chair. “Any thoughts on who might want Mr. Forester dead?”
    “Get to the point much quicker and that sergeant who brought you here won’t have time to finish running the background check on you. Orlando, was it? On a trip with your family?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    We were dancing. He was enjoying it more than I was.
    “You know I can’t comment about the case. It’s an ongoing investigation. Not even allowed to confirm if there
is
an investigation. I’m only speaking with you because earlier today your aunt dropped off a platter of sugar cakes. She’s a right persuasive woman, your aunt.”
    Good old Aunt Vivian was fast becoming my favorite relative.
    “But Forester
is
dead. And somebody killed him.”
    “Fact is, we haven’t ruled it a homicide yet. Might have died of natural causes. The chest wound could have come after he was dead, which would make it a whole different kind ofcrime. Look, I know you’d love for this to turn out to be one of those gruesome horror stories that gets spread across the Web. Bet that’d make the editor of your little website real happy. That is why you’re here, right? For a story? But until I know more, all we have is a dead man on a golf course with cause of death undetermined. Fact is, dying during a round of golf isn’t all that strange.”
    “But getting stabbed with a wooden stake is. Did you know Forester was part of a vampire role-playing game?”
    “I heard something about that. Never have understood this infatuation with vampires and zombies. It’s like people today are searching for evidence of ghosts and monsters while at the same time rejecting any notion of God. I’m not saying I’m a religious man. Being raised both Catholic and Cherokee made for some