Read Online Stay of Execution by K. L. Murphy - Free Book Online

minutes of silence, the old bartender spoke again. Although his tone was conversational, his words betrayed his outward indifference. “Shit, Mike, I don’t know what they expect us to do. Sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop? You and me, old friend, know the truth, and I don’t give a rat’s ass who rigged the evidence. Spradlin’s guilty. He can’t goddamn stay in this town.”
    Nothing Ernie said surprised Cancini. He understood the town’s reaction and would not judge its ­people. They were not coldhearted or ignorant as so many reporters were already implying. They were just protecting their own. “The law says he can, Ernie. You know that.”
    Bloodshot eyes searched Cancini’s. The bartender nodded. He pulled out another glass, filling it to the rim before taking a sip himself. “What do you want from me, Mike?”
    â€œNothing, Ernie.” Cancini looked down the bar. The stools were half full. He raised his eyes, meeting the old man’s gaze. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
    Ernie took a long drink. “Are you on the case?”
    Cancini almost smiled. He liked the direct approach. In fact, it was the approach he used himself when conducting interrogations. He didn’t like games. “There is no case for me, Ernie. Spradlin is a free man. The FBI is investigating now.”
    â€œSo, why are you here?”
    Cancini pushed away the empty mug. “Baldwin called me. Said he was scared.”
    Ernie snorted. “Of what? His election returns? Probably worried he’ll lose his big seat as mayor when everyone remembers how he stuck up for Spradlin at the trial.”
    Ernie’s assessment wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was true enough. Baldwin had provided a shaky alibi for one of the murders, but he’d been vague about what time he might have seen Spradlin, discounting his testimony. Spradlin himself offered no alibi. Still, any ill will Baldwin had earned, he’d erased with solid accomplishments since then. He held an important position in town, one he wouldn’t give up easily. “Who knows what’s going on in his head?”
    Ernie’s brows furrowed, and he clucked his tongue. “So, then, what’re you s’posed to do for him so he won’t be such a scaredy cat?”
    Cancini raised one shoulder. “Nothing as far as I know. At least I’m not planning on doing anything.”
    Ernie walked away, tending to other customers. Cancini picked through the pretzels, emptying the bowl. In the last hour, the bar had nearly filled. A waitress wearing a denim dress two sizes too small came out of the kitchen. She glanced at Ernie and then at Cancini, eyebrows arched. He nodded at her once, and she disappeared again.
    A fresh mug appeared before him. “If you’re not here for Baldwin, then why’re you here, Mike?” Ernie asked. He leaned on the bar, his forearms pressed against the dark wood.
    Cancini picked up the mug, hesitating. He wasn’t sure how to put his answer into words without creating rumors. “I’ve got some leave coming. I decided to take it.”
    â€œSure, and I’m married to Pamela Anderson.” Ernie stood up as straight as his old back would allow, and his tired eyes flickered with amusement. “C’mon, Mike. You’re here for a reason, and you walked into my place for a reason.” He wore the expression of a man bracing for trouble. “What can I do?”
    The detective wiped the beer foam from his upper lip, considering the question. He’d seen the press conference. Spradlin had lied and tensions in town were high. Still, he’d told Ernie the truth. The FBI would handle the case. There was nothing more to see, no real reason not to pack his bags and go home. He’d spent the last day and night wondering why he didn’t do exactly that.
    A woman’s laughter rang out, bubbly and carefree.