Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 12 - Murder Among Friends Read Free

eyed him narrowly. “I don’t want the job”
    “Huh?” His eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t want
it? Why not?”
    “I told you. Because I know them, and because whatever
we find out for them is going to hurt them, and I don’t want
to be the one doing it.”
    He shrugged. “Someone’s got to do it. If not us, another
agency. Besides, being their close friend, you could probably handle it more gracefully than anyone else”
    I shook my head and stared at him in wonder. “You don’t
miss a bet, do you?”
    A puzzled frown knit his brows. “What do you mean by
that?”
    “Nothing,” I replied in disgust. “Nothing”
    Muttering obscenities under my breath, I headed for
my apartment. On the one hand, I couldn’t blame Marty.
Debbie and her mother were simply another client for
Blevins’ Security.
    Yet, because I had known her so long, and because we
had once been fairly close, I wasn’t comfortable being the
bearer of bad news. I might never find her father, and if I
did, he was going to prison. Either way, she wouldn’t have
him at home. I just didn’t want to be the one responsible.
    At my apartment, I tossed my tweed jacket on the couch
and fell into my evening routine, nuking milk and putting
out fresh water and another handful of nuggets for A.B.
I was so busy cursing Marty that I failed to notice A.B.
wasn’t around.
    Usually, the little guy was under my feet, weaving back and forth through my legs like it was his mission on earth
to see if he could trip me.

    I reached the bathroom before I realized I hadn’t seen
him, and that’s when I spotted the torn screen on the bathroom window.
    That window was one of his favorite spots, and I always
left it open for him.
    I cursed again, and hurried outside. For twenty minutes,
I wandered the neighborhood, calling him. Finally, I stood
on the corner, my thumbs hooked in the pockets of my
washed out jeans, and stared up and down the street.
    A neighbor ambled out to the curb. He was an older man
who tended his flowerbeds constantly. I guessed him to be in
his seventies or so. He waved. “You looking for a white cat?”
    I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. He got out through a
torn screen. You see him?”
    “This morning. About ten. Mildred, that’s my wife, sent
me to the mailbox. I saw a white cat chasing another cat down
the street there,” he said, pointing east on Payton-Gin Road.
    I swore a little more, thanked him, and then climbed in
my pickup. I found no sign of A.B.
    Back in my apartment, I slammed the door in disgust.
First Marty sneaks behind my back and manages to get a
case I didn’t want; Janice wants to “talk”; and now my cat,
the one I saved from being used as alligator bait in a
Louisiana swamp, had run off.
    “What else could go wrong?” I muttered.
    At that moment, the phone rang.
    I growled into the receiver. “Yeah?”
    “Tony, this is Bob Ray Burrus. We got your old man in jail
down here. They say he’s involved in some guy’s murder.”

     

Come on, Bob Ray,” I replied. “This has been a tough
day. I don’t need any jokes”
    There was no hint of amusement in his voice. “No joke,
Tony. John Roney Boudreaux. Brought in this morning
passed out. They found him at the rail yards. And they found
another guy down there, but he was dead. They figure your
father might know something about it. Maybe did it”
    I was speechless. After a couple of moments, Bob Ray
lowered his voice. “They got no real proof against him, but
he was laying there by the dead guy. There was a busted
beer bottle near his hand, and the blow to the head is what
killed the other dude”
    “This other dude, he got a name?”
    “The hobos called him Salinas Sal”
    In frustration, I muttered, “I can’t believe it.”
    Bob Ray worked the Evidence Room down at the police
station. He and I had gone through the first three years at
U.T. before he transferred to Sam Houston University at
the end of