Deadly Places: A Mapleton Mystery Novella by Terry Odell Read Free Book Online Page B

tension he hadn’t been aware he’d been carrying left Ed’s shoulders.
    He called Paul Lipsky, and they made arrangements to meet at Daily Bread. “I’m still learning the ins and outs,” Ed said over a pulled pork sandwich. “Even though my position is temporary, wherever possible, I want to maintain the status quo. However, I don’t want to be considered a lame duck Chief who’s sitting around waiting for Chief Hepler’s return.”
    Lipsky had sounded pleased, and Ed made a mental note to be sure to let the editor know he had the same concerns as Gordon about working together with the press.
    Meanwhile, time for more Chief Stuff. He looked at the form the mayor wanted. There were eight fields that required more than statistics or yes-no answers. He’d tackle two a day. The first was What suggestions do you have for a better utilization of manpower? Easy. More officers, more money. But he didn’t think that would fly. Nor would, Why should it matter? I’m only filling in . He’d never liked essay questions. He’d contemplate his answer while he checked his email.
    A message from Sam Fischer saying Call me had his blood pumping. He grabbed the phone. His heart pounded faster with every ring. Pick up. Pick up.
    “IT. Fischer.”
    Ed tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Ed Solomon calling about your email. Did you find the code name I needed?”
    “Sorry, not yet. It’s not like I can install a key logger on these people’s computers. But I’m still working. Contrary to popular belief, there’s no master archive in the clouds with copies of everyone’s emails waiting to be perused.”
    “So, why did you ask me to call?” Ed swallowed his disappointment. The miracles the geeks could perform went only so far.
    “The email you forwarded came from a public library computer. If your suspect is smart, and she seems to be, she’s not going to be picking up her email from the same place. What I want to do is beef up things from the other end, make your victim more … enticing.”
    “More of a deadbeat in need of killing,” Ed said.
    “Your words, not mine. At any rate, anyone digging into your potential victim is going to see your fictitious Dennis Donovan was married three times, had two kids with wife number one, three with wife number two, and a set of twins with number three. He hasn’t paid a cent in two years, and the courts have been after him in three states.”
    “Sounds good, in a nasty kind of way.”
    “If your theory holds, these people are going to do a bunch of research. He has to be real when they find him. Next, I need to know more about your cover so I can make sure it’s rock solid before Paula, or whoever’s doing this, sees it.”
    So far, all Ed had for his part in the charade was his own cover name, Pat Jackson, which could be either Patricia or Patrick, depending on how things played out. Plus, should anyone on Paula’s end be looking, it was a common enough name that they’d need a lot more information—which was probably going to happen after he filled out the questionnaire they’d sent.
    Logic would say the most obvious person to want a deadbeat out of the way would be an ex-wife, but nothing forbade a concerned parent, good friend, or relative from wanting to intervene on a woman’s behalf, which opened the process to both genders. And, he told himself, the odds anyone involved in assassinating people would want a face-to-face were slim indeed.
    “You think I should be an ex-wife?” Ed asked.
    “Easier if you’re a friend,” Sam said. “Less likely for someone checking to stumble over reality.”
    They decided Dennis Donovan’s ex-wife would have a new boyfriend, one who wanted to see the ex out of the way, and spent a few minutes developing Pat Jackson’s background history, which Sam said she’d plant in the obvious places.
    “I’ll get him into the databases the PIs use, set up a Twitter account. If he’s thinking about breaking the law by