Unholy Shepherd, Robert Christian [fastest ebook reader TXT] 📗

think I’m going to need some more context here.”

He launched into a synopsis of what had happened to him that morning. “So,” he concluded after a few minutes, “as you can imagine, I’m looking for a partner on this. And I’m going to need one that has a certain aptitude for working on the fringes of the law. The way I see it, you’re still a person of interest in this whole business, so what better way for you to prove that you’re innocent than by helping solve this thing?”

Maureen finished her beer and went back to the tap and refilled the mug halfway. “It sounds like you’re giving me a choice, but you’re really not, are you?”

“I think you pretty much ran yourself out of choices the moment you decided to break into the Lowes’ house,” he replied.

He may well have been right. She would have to go along for now, she decided. “Why me?”

“I think your abilities will give us some insights that the rest of the investigation can’t uncover.”

He’s not even trying to be subtle. “So, you’re going to use me?”

“Is that a problem?” he asked with annoying playfulness. “If you’d rather spend your time here with your lovely customers, by all means, do it.”

Maureen rolled her eyes and took another sip of beer. “So what’s the plan?”

“Well for starters, you’re going to stay with me until this is all settled. We’re going to start at my place by going through all the evidence I’ve collected so far. Maybe between that and your visions, we’ll come up with something.”

“Not much of a plan,” she scoffed. “I’ve already told you that I don’t see the future.”

“Yeah, I know. I was listening. I’d be glad to hear any other suggestions.”

Of course, Maureen didn’t have any. She wasn’t feeling particularly hopeful about the endeavor, but the detective was beginning to intrigue her. Plus, she wanted to see what he would do if they were to fail.

“Well then, Detective,” she said, raising the mug and then draining the remainder, “I guess we’re gonna go and catch us a murderer.”

“It’s Manny.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Maureen set the beer mug in the sink and turned to head into the back to tell Mr. Anderson that she was leaving, likely never to be back. The detective got up and began to follow her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, rounding on him. “I’m only going in back to tell my boss what’s going on.”

“I’ve given him the broad strokes of the situation,” he said. “Besides, I need to make sure you’re not going to try and run.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Not really.”

Maureen threw up her arms, let out a sigh of frustration, and continued toward the back of the building with the young detective shuffling along behind her.

“Todd,” she said upon stepping into her boss’ cluttered office, “the detective is taking me out of here. I don’t expect I’ll be back.”

“What?” he responded, clearly blindsided at the prospect of actually losing her as an employee.

“I won’t be working here anymore,” Maureen talked fast, hoping to fluster the man. “I’ll take what I’m owed for the last week and get out of your hair.”

“But, I . . . ,” Mr. Anderson stammered, shuffling through his papers. “I haven’t gone over the books yet. I thought I’d have more time.”

“I’ll take an even two hundred then,” she said putting out her hand. “And I’ll go ahead and help myself to a couple of bottles of whiskey from the back. Not the cheap crap you keep up front, either. And you drink tequila, right Detective?” She turned toward him.

Detective Benitez was leaning on the door frame watching the two of them. He perked up when she addressed him, as if being shaken awake. All he seemed to be able to do was nod.

“All right, and two bottles of tequila while we’re at it,” she said, turning back to her boss.

Mr. Anderson’s face began to redden and he stood up, fists clenched. “You can’t possibly think I’ll let that happen.”

“Why not?” Maureen replied. “I’ve been a good worker. Made you more money than I’ve cost you, that’s for sure. But that’s fine, keep the cash. I’ll just help myself to the bottles. I’m sure you can figure out how to compensate yourself for the loss of inventory.”

Anderson didn’t say a word as she turned away, satisfied with her performance. She patted the detective on the shoulder and motioned with a jerk of her head that he should follow her. They made their way to the storeroom. Maureen grabbed an empty box from the hall and handed it to Detective Benitez. He began to protest, but she shushed him with a finger and set about filling the box with four bottles of some pretty decent bourbon, two of white tequila, and three six-packs of beer.

“What do you need all this for?” the detective managed to spit out as they entered the alley behind the bar and made their way toward his truck.

“Medication,” she replied.

“Excuse me?”

“So where to next?” she asked, ignoring his question. “If I’m going to be pressed into the type of service you have in mind, I’ll need to stop at my apartment and grab some of my things.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” he replied. “And then we’ll get some Chinese or something before we go back to my place.”

The rest of the walk to the detective’s truck and the drive to her apartment were completed in silence. Maureen could sense that the young man had absolutely no idea how to proceed. The tension seemed to grow in his body, and that made her more uncomfortable than the situation as a whole.

“I suppose you’ll want to come up with me to make sure I don’t jump out of the window or something,” she mocked as the detective pulled up to her curb.

“That’s the plan,” he said stiffly, putting the truck into park.

Once inside the apartment, Maureen headed first into the bathroom to grab her toothbrush and then to the nightstand to grab her