Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones by Terry Odell Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t mind a call.”
    “Agreed. Good work, Solomon. Now, get some sleep. I’ll follow up,” Gordon said. “Enjoy your time with your family.”
    Solomon’s lips curved upward. He tapped the brim of his cap. “Yes, Sir.” He strode out the door.
    When the door shut behind Solomon, that hollow feeling in Gordon’s chest returned. He went into the kitchen and snaked his arms around Angie’s waist. She turned and smiled up at him. The feeling in his chest wasn’t hollow anymore.
    “You and Solomon have a nice visit?” she asked. He heard the underlying question. Anything you can share?
    “He wanted to run a few things by me before he filed his report.”
    “Something about the bone?”
    “No, a call out from earlier.” He tapped his chest, where his badge sat if he was in uniform. “You know me—I’m the all-powerful Chief. Nobody makes a move without checking with me first.”
    “Yeah, right.” She turned into him, pulled him against her, wriggling her hips. “Do I need to check in before I make my next move?”
    Gordon cradled her head. He brushed his lips across hers. “What move did you have in mind?”
    She showed him in elaborate detail with lips and hips. Slowly, she pulled away. “Ozzie will be here any minute. And my cinnamon rolls need to be iced.”
    Gordon thought he might need to be iced, too, but not with Angie’s sugar topping. “And I have work to do.”
    “On Sunday?”
    “Sometimes it’s not all that great being the Chief.” He captured her lips for one more kiss before heading for the door. “I should be done by three.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    In his office, Gordon settled into the relative quiet of a Sunday morning in Mapleton. Sipping coffee, he studied the topographical map of the area he’d laid out on his desk. With the terrain reduced to concentric loops of various shapes and sizes, he had a new perspective.
    After comparing the topo to the regular map of the area, he located and marked Fred’s property. Next, he found the Kretzers’ place. Lastly, he noted the Shores’ home and the spot where Sandy had found Artie burying the bone. With a forefinger, Gordon traced the lines around Fred’s land, the ones between it and the others. He shook his head. Fred didn’t live at the highest point, although his property was higher than the Kretzers’. Could something from Freddy’s place have ended up in either of the other spots without being picked up and carried, either by human or critters? Not likely, although nothing was impossible. Water and mud went downhill, but not in a straight line. And after a major fire fifteen years ago, mudslides had been a problem.
    Maybe his interviews would shed some light. He glanced down at the faded jeans and Daily Bread t-shirt he was wearing. Not exactly appropriate for an official call. Another downside of being the Chief. Social, off-the-record, ordinary conversations were rare. Everyone was always on guard. Distant. Except Angie. He smiled. Distant wasn’t a word he would ever use when he thought about Angie.
    He checked his watch. Plenty of time to go home and change.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Shortly before eleven, Gordon, now dressed in black denims and a charcoal-gray polo shirt, sat in a wing chair in the Webber’s living room. Mr. and Mrs. Webber sat on the sofa. The husband, a stocky man with a receding hairline, wore wrinkled khakis and a rumpled red t-shirt with a soccer ball and the words “Mapleton Marvels” printed across the chest. He took the occasional pull from a bottle of beer. Gordon had declined Mr. Webber’s offer of one for himself.
    Mrs. Webber presented the opposite image. Slender to the point of emaciation, wearing a pair of black dress slacks, a lightweight white pullover and a necklace of multi-colored stones, she sat primly at the edge of the cushion, her feet encased in black leather pumps. Her blonde hair was sprayed into a helmet shape, and too-dark red lipstick colored her thin lips.
    Declan, their