Salvation Boulevard by Larry Beinhart Read Free Book Online

with real solutions.
    â€œSo if you see a crank fiend, and he is holding up a roadside attraction, and there is danger to yourself or to civilians, you should not be afraid to terminate his existence on the spot, if that is what’s necessary. You are doing God’s work. Don’t harm yourself with guilt afterward. You are doing God’s work.
    â€œIf you see a terrorist, and he is plotting to go to the university and bomb it because it is critical of Islam, do not hesitate to use any means necessary to stop him and save innocent life.
    â€œAnd our work here today is to see that this is written down for us in scripture. Because, in something so serious as taking a life, we need to know we’re on the right side.”
    For the next forty or fifty minutes, we talked about Numbers 35:17–19, which ordains the death penalty; Matthew 5:17–18 and Luke 16:187, in which Jesus is very clear that he is here to enforce the old law; Exodus 2:11–12, in which Moses slew an Egyptian who was smiting a Hebrew, the sort of thing a cop can easily be called upon to do; and First Samuel 17:1–51, the story of David and Goliath, in which David, with God’s help and God’s blessing, killed someone who was threatening God’s people.
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    Afterward, when we broke for coffee but most of the guys rushed off to work, I found a moment to be alone with Alan.
    â€œI’m kinda stuck here,” I said. “GGW&G, they’re my best client. I said I would take the job, and I don’t like to go back on my word.”
    He nodded. He could understand that, even agree with it. A man’s word is supposed to mean something.
    â€œAlso, I’m not supposed to start judging their clients for them. ‘Don’t call me unless you have a case I approve of’—I say that, they won’t call me for anything.”
    â€œYou’re gonna lose a lot of friends,” he said.
    â€œI got that,” I said.
    â€œAnd a lot of business,” he said.

    â€œI have a plan,” I said. “Maybe not much of one, but it’s the best I can think of so far. What I want to try to do is get Goldfarb a good start, get him enough to go on, enough that I can cut the case loose, and we both feel good about it.”
    â€œWhat do you need?”
    â€œPolice reports,” I said.
    â€œI’ll tell you right now, I can’t get you anything on Nazami. That’s wrapped up tighter than shrink wrap.”
    â€œNo, the original report, back when they thought it was a suicide.”
    â€œMaybe I could find that.”
    â€œAnd the university, the campus police must’ve made a report.”
    â€œYou figure that’ll get you off the hook?”
    â€œThat, plus interview a couple of witnesses, maybe find some alternate suspects he can throw at the jury.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can find,” he said.
    â€œThank you.”

9
    Nathaniel MacLeod’s widow, Teresa, said, “You should really talk to his girlfriend.”
    She said it more cheerfully than you expect a wife to refer to a late husband’s girlfriend. I wasn’t sure, but it felt like there were tight coils of tension beneath the surface.
    â€œHis girlfriend? What’s her name?”
    â€œUm, Emma? Emmy? . . . short for something else? I’m sorry, I’m really not sure, mostly he liked to call her his ‘own special angel.’”
    Teresa was slender, about forty. She wore no makeup, or so little that my eye couldn’t pick up on it. Her hair was styled, spiky and short, and it made her look a little bit dramatic. There were fine spider lines around her eyes, and you could see where the lines that would someday appear above her upper lip would be.
    Her full name was listed in the university course catalog as Teresa Mansfield-Pellita, which I took to be her maiden name. She had a PhD and was an assistant professor of geography. She taught urban commercial