The Maine Events, Rodney Riesel [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

the slammer because somebody is obviously tipping them off.”

“So?”

“So, maybe Tucker is the one who tips them off. Maybe he'sthe reason Strong and Jordan are always one step ahead of the police.”

“Allen, it sounds like one of your murder mysteries.”

“That doesn't mean I'm wrong.”

“Tuck might be a jerk sometimes, but I find it hard tobelieve he's working for a couple of mobsters. And I can't believe a wonderfulwoman like Betty Strong has two sons who are criminals.”

“Every bad guy had a mom at one time or another.”

“I guess.”

“To your knowledge, has Tucker ever been reprimanded atwork, or maybe put on suspension, or paid leave for anything?”

“Not that I—wait, there was this one time. It was about twoyears ago. He pulled a car over for speeding. The driver pulled a knife onTuck. Tuck beat the guy pretty bad. The guy suffered permanent brain damage andsued. His lawyer claimed Tuck planted the knife. Claimed his client had nevercarried a knife in his life. Tuck was on paid leave for a while, but the jurysided against the driver.”

“Wow. Anything else?”

“No, but there's a lot of people around here who don't likehim, but that's probably just because he's a cop. You know how people are.”

“Yeah, I know how people are,” Allen said. “There'ssomething else I haven't told you. When Bobby Jordan came to my room the dayafter our little run-in at Stones Throw, he was looking for something.”

“What was he looking for?”

“He didn't say, but he thought I might have it.”

“But he didn't say what it was?”

“No, but what if it's the piece of paper you and I saw Jacoband Oliver with? What if Bobby had the paper at Stones Throw? What if it blewoff the table or something and Jacob and Oliver found it underneath the deck?Maybe that's what Bobby and Vinny Tubbs were arguing about in the bathroom.”

“You're thinking that somehow Bobby found out that Jacob andOliver had the paper, and abducted them?”

“I don't know … maybe.”

“Why didn't you tell Rose about this?”

“Because I don't trust Tucker. I don't want him to know I'msuspicious of him.”

“But if he is in on it, he already knows you're suspiciousof him. He's smart enough to know that's why you didn't tell Rose about Bobbycoming to your room.”

“I know. I already thought of that.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“We?”

“Yeah, we.”

“Well, I'm going to reach out to Bobby Jordan and tryto find out what was written on that piece of paper.”

“If what was on that paper is important enough to kill atwelve-year-old child over, then it's important enough to kill you over.”

“That's a chance I'm going to have to take.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing at all.”

“But I can help.”

“Or you can get hurt. Please, let me handle this.”

“Whatever you say, tough guy. But how are you going to getin touch with Bobby Jordan?”

“His office is right across the street from York HousePizza.”

“He tell you that?”

“Yeah, he thinks we're buddies. He even asked me if I wouldbe interested in writing an autobiography about him.”

“An autobiography?”

“Yep.”

“Do you mean biography?”

“That's what Bobby meant, but I get the idea he's just a bigdumb animal.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

A half hour later, Allen made a U-turn on York Street andpulled into a parking space in front of River Current Art Gallery. The art gallerysat right next door to York House of Pizza, directly across the street fromBobby Jordan's office. It was a sure bet that Bobby Jordan spent a lot moretime at the pizza place than he did the art gallery. Allen got out of his Jeepand jogged across the street.

The building that housed Jordan's office was a two-storystructure with gray wood shingles for siding, white trim, and a deck that ranthe entire front of the building. It had a gable roof with the second floorinside the roof line. There were two doors—one red, one blue—off the deck thatled to two different businesses. Bobby's door was on the right. The office onthe left appeared vacant. A sign over Bobby's door read Jordan Properties in blue letters; the font reminded Allenof a Cape Cod Potato Chips bag. There was even a lighthouse to the left of thelettering. The sign over the vacant office door had been removed.

Allen walked up the steps and onto the deck. He turned theknob and opened the blue door. A bell rang. Allen glanced down at the doormatand instinctively wiped his feet. A woman in a black T-shirt was sitting behinda desk against the far wall. She appeared to be in her mid-sixties. She hadfair skin and white hair that was pulled up into a bun that sat on top of herhead. A name plate on her desk said DorisO'Brian. She looked up from her paperwork and smiled.

“Good afternoon,” said Doris.

“Good afternoon,” Allen replied. He stepped off the mat andshut the door behind him. The bell rang again.

With the large picture window in the front of the buildingand the white walls, ceilings, and trim, the room seemed brighter on the insidethan it was outside. Allen almost wished he'd brought sunglasses. Doris's desk,desk chair, and the two chairs in front of her desk were the only nice furniturein the room. Two shabby five-foot metal file cabinets, with a few rust spotshere and there, sat against the wall behind her. On the wall to her left was amassive painting of a sailing ship, and to her right, a large painting of theNubble Lighthouse. Behind her, to the left of the file cabinets was a shorthallway.

“What can I do for you today?” Doris asked, the smile stillplastered across her face. She reached up and adjusted her bra strap throughher T-shirt.

“My name is Allen Crane and—”

“The writer.”

“That's right. You've heard of me?”

“Just from Mr. Jordan.”

“Oh,” Allen responded. “Anyway, I'm trying to get in touchwith Bobby. Is he here?”

“No, Mr. Jordan is out of the office at the moment.”

“Is there any way you could contact him and let him knowthat I'm trying to get in touch with him?”

Doris picked up a pencil and readied herself. “May I