Dead to Rights by Jack Patterson (fiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

in order to meet the boat before it launched out into the lake again for more shenanigans.

As the boat neared the dock, Cal recognized Boone, who had taken over captaining while guzzling a cheap beer. Boone crushed the can with his hand and gave it to a bikini-clad woman. Her big smile indicated that she felt special just to be on board the boat with such a man.

“Think we’re going to get anything worthwhile out of Boone now?” Kelly asked.

Cal shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

He ambled along the dock with Kelly, stopping a few meters short of where Boone had his fellow boaters tie the vessel off.

“Mr. and Mrs. Murphy,” Boone said once he recognized the pair of visitors standing on the dock. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit on this beautiful Sunday afternoon?”

“It’s a courtesy call,” Cal said.

“A courtesy call? What the heck are you talkin’ about? You know I don’t speak like you city folks.”

“I’m working on a story that I plan on running in the next few days, and I want to see if you care to comment on it before The Seattle Times publishes it.”

“What kind of story?” Boone asked.

Kelly flipped open her iPad and turned it around so Boone could see it.

“The kind of story that accompanies a photo like this,” she said.

Boone’s eyes widened. “And what kind of caption are you going to put with that? Hopefully not the kind that will get you sued, right?”

Cal pointed at the image. “If you won’t tell us what it’s all about, perhaps we’ll suggest some possibilities to readers. We’ve already got several sources on record telling us about a special arrangement you and Sheriff Sloan have. We’d just be reporting what these people said. We’d let the readers make up their own minds.”

“That’d be a big mistake then,” Boone said.

“Tell us what this is about then,” Cal said. “Set the record straight.”

“I did some body work for Sheriff Sloan on one of his cars. He always pays me at the race once I’ve finished getting his car in tip-top shape. It just so happened that he asked me to drive it this year too.”

“How convenient,” Kelly said.

“Look, if you don’t believe me, let’s go to my office. I’ll show you the receipt right now. But if you don’t want to see it, that’s your prerogative. But I’ll sue you into oblivion if you suggest that I’m doing anything illegal with the sheriff.”

“You mean like running moonshine for him?” Cal asked.

Boone chuckled. “Who told you that?”

Cal eyed Boone closely. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Are you running moonshine with the sheriff’s blessing?”

Boone shook his head. “This isn’t 1930 or 1950, even. There are far more sophisticated ways to run moonshine in the 21st Century … or so I’ve heard.”

“And this isn’t an activity you’ve been involved with, is it?” Cal said.

“Do you honestly think I’d tell you if I were involved?”

“That’s not a denial.”

“It’s not an admission either,” Boone said, throwing his hands in the air. “So, I like to drink and have fun at the lake. I’m a little wild sometimes. But I’m not involved in any illegal activity. That stopped a long time ago. A very long time ago.”

Cal continued to press Boone. “Did this illegal activity stop around the time of Susannah Sloan’s murder?”

Boone sighed. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

“Where were you when Susannah Sloan was killed?”

“I was at the Pirate’s Den, drinking with some of my former teammates off the Pickett County High football team. That’s it.”

“All night?”

“All night.”

Kelly leaned forward, hugging her iPad. “That’s not what we heard.”

Boone let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. You want to hear the truth? I’ll tell you the truth. Kill that story you’re about to write and meet me for dinner tonight at Curly’s around seven. I’ll tell you everything then.”

Cal and Kelly watched as Boone snatched a beer out of the cooler at the end of the dock before he jumped back into his boat.

“Let’s go, boys,” Boone said as he fired up the engine. “We’ve still got plenty of time to make some waves this afternoon.”

Boone whipped the boat around toward the center of the lake and pushed the throttle forward, sending the nose of the vessel into the air. A couple of the men on board let out wild yelps. Boone looked over his shoulder at Cal and Kelly, glaring at them.

“Glad we didn’t have any dinner plans,” Kelly said. “This ought to be interesting.”

CHAPTER 35

CAL AND KELLY DECIDED to stop by the Pickett County jail to see if they could chat with Drake. It was a long shot since visiting hours wouldn’t begin until Monday afternoon, but Cal was convinced they could talk their way into getting a few minutes with the city’s most famous native.

Sheriff Sloan was nowhere to be found, but one of his deputies, Mark Polson, stood watch on the late Sunday afternoon shift.

“Are you sure you can’t let us see him?” Kelly asked Deputy Polson.

Polson, who sat at a desk piled high with stacks of files, didn’t look up.

“No means no,” he muttered.

“Drake’s lawyer, Robert Sullivan, is on his way over here,” Cal said. “Wouldn’t you rather me run interference for you with that pompous jerk?”

Polson sighed and shook his head. “Fine. Just make sure you get me an autograph, will you?” he said, sliding Drake’s rookie card across the desk to Cal. “Sheriff Sloan would have my hide if he found out I asked Isaiah Drake for an autograph on anything but an official department form.”

“I’ll take care of that for you, Deputy,” Cal said, picking up the card from the desk.

“Thanks,” Polson said. “Follow me.” He led Cal and Kelly down a short corridor and then opened a door to an interrogation room. “Wait here while I go get him.”

A few minutes later, Polson reappeared with Drake in handcuffs.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Polson said before closing the door and exiting the room.

Drake slumped in a