A Far Gone Night by John Carenen Read Free Book Online Page B

title, but I’m sure “Boots” Bednarik would know. I backed out of the parking space and drove away, impatient to talk to Dr. Jarlsson , but not without some trepidation. It’s not easy to call someone respectable a liar.

 

    M y experience at Holy Grounds bordered on the spiritual. Dark coffee with plenty of cream and sugar along with four doughnuts ( two sour cream and two lemon-filled) helped me pass the time until I could go talk to Dr. Jarlsson .
    Of course, while I was at the doughnut shop, I ran into two officers of the law. The man was Marty Landsberger , with whom I was familiar. Landsberger , like Stephen Doltch , looks like one of those assembly-line Scandinavian/German men who model skiwear and endorse snowmobiles.
    The woman was not Scandinavian. She was short, dark-haired, brown-eyed, and looked like someone who might model makeup and fashion accessories. She wore small, silver earrings of an indeterminate design and a red headband that pushed back her curly black hair, the ebony locks and accessory complementing each other.
    The officers sidled over to my booth after they got their coffee and doughnuts (one for her, three for him), to say hello.
    “Morning, Stephen,” I said. “Have a seat. Who’s your chaperone?”
    “Good morning, Thomas. I want you to meet Deputy Penny Altemier , new to our department. Deputy, this is Thomas O’Shea, a citizen good at finding bodies.”
    I stood and took her hand. Strong, confident. I said hello. She gave me direct eye contact with brown eyes that might be the most intense and beautiful I have ever seen. “Stunning” is the word. We all sat down at my booth. I asked Penny where she was from since it was obvious she was new. She took a tiny bite from her plain doughnut, which she had cut in half with the plastic knife on the plate. Then a bird-sip from the coffee, black.
    “I’m from Dubuque, originally,” she said.
    I don’t think she was twenty-five, but she had the confidence of someone much older and more experienced. Her lips were full and sensuous, her nose a bit prominent, her chin strong. Her field jacket, like Marty’s, was unsnapped and I noticed that her figure looked proportional, at least what I could see.
    “Did you go to Dubuque Senior or Wahlert High?”
    “Senior. Played soccer, not too well, and tennis, badly.”
    “So did you ever run into Mike Mulehoff ? He tells me that’s where he works,” I said.
    “Well, actually, I had Mr. Mulehoff for American History. Both sections. Great teacher,” she said. “Like Marty here,” she said sweetly, serving a glance in Landsberger’s direction. He caught it and pulled it in.
    “Where have you served before?” I asked. I took a bite from my sour cream doughnut, enjoying the heft.
    “This is my first job. I’m right out of the Academy. Before that, a couple of years of community college, criminal justice major.”
    “Well, I’m sure you’ll bring justice to any criminals around Rockbluff County,” I said.
    “From what I understand,” she replied, “you pretty much cleaned them out, Mr. O’Shea.”
    “An exaggeration, I’m sure.
    “Well, we’ll scoot along,” Landsberger said. “Don’t want to invade your privacy any more than we have already, O’Shea. You might get annoyed and shoot us.”
    “Always a pleasure to interface with symbols of power,” I said.
    The two deputy sheriffs slid out of the booth and stood. Penny said, “A pleasure to meet you, sir,” and winked.
    I love it when women wink at me.
    “Give us a call if you spot a crime,” she said, turning away. Marty smiled at her and then they left. She took his arm in hand as they departed, Marty munching on his second doughnut and Penny glancing up at him in admiration, I guess. Friendly.
    When it got to be 9:30, I got up, left five dollars on the table, and took my bill up to the cashier. Her name is Margo and she’s a well-rounded lady with frizzy red hair and a big smile squeezed out from between chubby