Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”

Fredrick_Udele · แฟนตาซี

เรตติ้งไม่พอ

69 Chs

CHAPTER 27

I was in my Marshal uniform as Max and I entered the building. An official called out from behind me that I couldn't carry a gun into a state government building, nor could I take my dog. His arguments died in his throat when I turned around and he had the chance to read the front of my shirt. I had worn my uniform at Jonathan Bascomb's suggestion. "You'll get much faster service in uniform than in regular clothes, that's for sure." He was right; no sooner had I approached the information desk than one of the managers asked how he could help me. Five minutes later I had my new license plate and another five after that I was taking the exam. All in all, driving to and back had taken much more time than the actual work in the DMV.

I was driving along Main Street in Bascomb's Landing and looking for a parking space when I saw something that made my blood run cold. On the sidewalk about fifty feet in front of me, Donald Craig had a pistol in his right hand and Lucy's arm in his left. He was pulling her out the salon door and she was fighting all the way. I stopped suddenly right in the lane causing the man behind me to sound his horn. I always used my personal SUV for work so I put the flashers on and climbed out in a rush to the tailgate. I grabbed my vest and had it velcroed onto my body in seconds. I'd practiced this probably hundreds if not thousands of times.

I was yelling for everyone to get off the sidewalk as I walked quickly toward Craig. "Don't come any closer," he screamed. "I'll shoot her. I swear I will and keep your damn dog back. I swear…I'll kill both of them!"

I approached slowly with Max at heel, knowing that he'd likely attack Craig and get himself shot in the process. I stamped my right foot as I stepped forward, then again as I stepped sideways. I gave Lucy a look that said "DUH" and a few seconds later she showed recognition as she stomped down hard on Craig's foot. By then I was in position, my pistol held up with two hands in firing position. Lucy was wearing shoes with three-inch heels. They weren't stilettos, but they did taper to about a half-inch diameter. They would create a force of more than 300 pounds per square inch which was sure to get his attention.

He screamed in pain and his grip on Lucy relaxed enough for her to break away. Thinking quickly, she moved down and to her left away from Craig and out of my line of fire. The loud report of my .44 Magnum broke the silence of the calm morning as soon as I had seen Donald Craig raise his weapon and point it toward Lucy. I had aimed for his shoulder and at this distance—less than twenty feet—I didn't miss. The bullet tore through his muscle and bone and embedded itself into the nearby wooden light pole, exactly as I had hoped and planned. Craig's pistol fell harmlessly to the concrete, landing just an instant before he did.

"Max, gun," I commanded. He ran to stand over the weapon and I knew it would still be there when I returned it. Next I tore the vest and my tee shirt from my body, dropping the vest, but folding the shirt into a long thin bandage. I wrapped it tightly around Craig's shoulder and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Then my attention went to Lucy. "Lucy—darling--are you okay?"

"I'm still shaking a bit, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Good; go back into the salon and ask them to phone the police and tell them that we need EMT's, too." She disappeared a second later and that was when I first noticed the City Police car parked less than seventy feet down the street. I was sure that my astonishment showed on my face. The two officers in the car had done nothing during the entire confrontation but sit and watch in the car's mirrors. Even from this distance I thought I could recognize one of them as Jeremy Haynes. I made a note of the car's number for future use.

People began to congregate around Craig and me despite my requests that they stand back. I was glad that Max had taken control of the gun. On my command Max brought it to me and then I had him turn and growl at the crowd. As quickly as they had swarmed around us, that's how quickly they backed up. Minutes later the first police arrived. I recognized two of the officers from the incident at the diner and they recognized me, as well. I described what I had seen and done and Lucy gave a statement, as did eight people who had been passing by. The EMT's took over, bandaging Craig's wound and taking him off to the hospital. I passed his revolver to one of the officers and surrendered my weapon—a routine part of any investigation. The last thing I did was to show them where my bullet had struck the light pole.

"Pretty lucky to hit this pole, Cahill."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied with a chuckle. That was when I felt Lucy behind me. Turning, I took her into my arms. "Thank God you're okay. I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn't been here."

"If I'd had my purse I could have used my pepper spray, but it was on the counter. I was just about to get out of the chair when he ran in and grabbed me. How'd you think of stomping on his foot?"

"That's standard procedure. I'm just glad you caught on." Lucy kissed me right there on the sidewalk and, not surprisingly, there was plenty of cheering and polite applause. Then she returned to the salon and Max and I moved the SUV out of the road, parking in the spot that had been vacated by Haynes and his partner and donning an old shirt that I always kept in the SUV's rear.

Max and I walked into the salon to wait for Lucy, but that only lasted for a minute or so before the odor of acetone began giving me a headache. Lucy told me about a sandwich shop down the street and around the corner. "The owner won't mind you sitting there until I join you for lunch. Just tell her who you are." She turned to kiss me quickly and I walked out, glad to be in the warm clear air. Max and I strolled down the street, saying hello to shoppers and their young children, many of whom had heard about Max from friends. They petted and hugged him while I talked quietly to their parents. Most were pleased that I'd be taking over for the retiring chief of police. Their comments about him mirrored those I'd heard about the force, except that they were much worse.

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