Scott Free by John Gilstrap Read Free Book Online

though, the instant that Maurice Hertzberger waddled in. Clearly a regular, Maurice chatted it up with the waitress who, by pure happenstance, seated the newcomer in the booth directly across the aisle from Teddy, who continued on with the small talk. He tossed off a casual how-ya-doin’, which led to the where-ya-froms and within ten minutes, Teddy had received an invitation to move his place setting over to Maurice’s table. That’s when the conversation turned to the eightieth birthday. Damn this weather, though. It would be a bitch finding a ride.
    Right on cue, Maurice had made his offer and Teddy had his chauffeur. Thus began the five hours of endless chatter.
    “The roads are getting worse by the minute,” Maurice observed for at least the dozenth time. In profile, his huge belly made his arms look too short to steer.
    “You’re doin’ great by me,” Teddy replied. Thanks to a theatrical fat suit he’d picked up on an Internet auction for about seventy bucks, people would remember Teddy as a full-figured fellow himself. The suit added a good fifty pounds to his appearance, and the bushy beard concealed his lean features well enough to not raise casual suspicion. “You must drive this route a lot.”
    “Actually, no. Salt Lake is my usual run, but I don’t take this route. Certainly not in this weather.” Maurice reached across and playfully slapped his passenger on the arm. “This one’s for you and your mom.”
    Teddy appeared moved. Acting was part of his job description, too. “Are you serious? I didn’t expect you to go out of your way.”
    Maurice waved him off. “Oh, hell, I don’t mind. Night like this, it’s kinda nice to have the company, know what I mean?”
    Teddy returned the playful slap, only his probably left a bruise. “Maurice, that is so nice of you. I really am very touched.” In the blessed silence that followed, Teddy watched in his peripheral vision as the driver rubbed the spot on his arm.
    The quiet endured for only thirty seconds. “You sure you don’t want to call home or something?” Maurice asked. “You’re welcome to use my cell phone.”
    “No, that’s all right. Thank you.”
    “You sure?” Maurice tried again, this time thrusting a matchbook-size cell phone at his guest. “Your mom must be worried sick.”
    “She’s not expecting me,” Teddy explained. “And even if she was, she doesn’t have a phone.”
    Maurice recoiled at the thought. “No kidding? She doesn’t have a phone? How come?”
    This was actually kind of fun. New territory to be explored. “She thinks they’re the work of the devil,” he said with a hearty laugh. Then, in his best old-lady voice he added, “I’ve been on this planet since nineteen and twenty-three and never once saw the need for a telephone. Somebody wants to talk to me they can damn well come to my door and talk to my face.” That sounded pretty good, he thought.
    Maurice chuckled. “But what about emergencies? What if she gets sick?”
    Teddy laughed, maybe a little too heartily. “You don’t know Mama. Never been sick a day in her life. I always figured the germs were afraid of her.”
    Maurice enjoyed that one, too. His boisterous laugh jostled the cab. At the rate they were traveling, Teddy figured they had another forty-five minutes to share. Maybe an hour.
     
    A RAPAHO C OUNTY P OLICE C HIEF Barry Whitestone listened to the bad news and gently placed the telephone receiver back in its cradle. Out in the squad room, beyond the glass panels that defined the walls of his office, six officers stared hopefully at him, then looked away when they saw his expression. Some nights, nothing went right.
    He pushed his wooden desk chair back on its casters, and headed for the door to make it official.
    “Is it as bad as you look, boss?” asked Jesse Tingle. At twenty-seven, Jesse was the second-oldest cop on his staff, and at that, he got carded at every restaurant.
    “From every angle you can think of,” Barry