The Double-Jack Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) Read Free

that big oil of the girl coming through the door with a bouquet of wildflowers.”
    Tully turned and looked at the painting. “Naw, afraid not. That’s my wife.”
    “She’s beautiful. I’d love to meet her. I had no idea you were married.”
    “Yeah, that’s kind of a problem. I have the feeling I’m still married to Ginger, but she died ten years ago. Foolish, huh?”
    “I don’t know. I kind of like the idea.”
    “Don’t get me wrong,” Tully said. “I still date other women.”
    “That’s what I hear.”
    “No doubt. Everybody hears that. It’s mostly because of my mother. She’s Gossip Central in Blight City. Anyway, I did that painting of Ginger just a couple of years ago. Did it from memory. I retained the image of Ginger coming through the door with the bouquet of wildflowers all that time, right down to the last detail.”
    He picked up another plate and asked Sid to fill it with shrimp. “I got kind of an invalid up in the studio. I better take him up some shrimp, before he starts raising a fuss.”
    Deputy Brian Pugh was sweeping the spotting scope back and forth, studying the tree line on top of the ridge.
    “Heard me coming up the stairs, huh, Pugh?”
    “You know me, Bo, nothing if not vigilant. I was starting to wonder when you might get up here with some of that shrimp. The aroma has been driving me crazy.” He picked up a shrimp by the tail, munched it, and then moaned with pleasure. “You can have me watch your back anytime.”
    “I plan to,” Tully said. “I don’t suppose you’ve put the scope on any pretty ladies.”
    “Like a blonde in a tiny white dress? No, sir, I’ve been focused entirely on bad guys with rifles sneaking through the woods.”
    “Yeah, right. Speaking of bad guys, I don’t like the idea of being used as bait for Lucas Kincaid.”
    “Hey, it was your idea, Bo.”
    “Yeah. Not one of my better ones though. I’m a sitting duck here in town. I think we’d better move our operation to the mountains.”
    “You’re the boss. But the mountains are home for Kincaid. I think he will be a lot tougher to nail up there.”
    “Yeah, well, you’ll be happy to know that I’m going to take off a week and go camping up north with Pap.” He studied his deputy’s face. “Your expression tells me you think I’m afraid of Lucas Kincaid. Listen, Brian, I’ve had a lot smarter men than Lucas try to kill me and they’re all either dead or in prison. So I don’t want you or any of the other deputies to think I’m running off because of Kincaid.”
    “How about a tiny white dress?”
    “That’s a different matter.”
    Pugh stretched and yawned. He turned and stared up at the tree line. “I don’t suppose you want to let me know where you’re camping?”
    “I was going to bring that up. It’s that old campsite on Deadman Creek. You know the one. There used to be horse-packing operations out of there, and part of the old corral is still standing.”
    “That the one with a ridge above it?”
    “Yeah, you can see the ridge from the camp and the camp from the ridge. Otherwise the trees are pretty thick around it. It’s terrific deer hunting, but you have to be able to shoot quick. I nailed a deer up on the ridge from the camp, though. Good elk hunting, too. There’s some clear country higher up and lots of times you can even get a rest for a long shot.”
    “I’ll give it a try sometime.”
    “Do that.”
    Tully returned to the porch to find his bulky deputy Buck Toole talking to the local Catholic priest, Father James Flynn, who was sitting in Tully’s rocker. Clarence was baring his teeth at the priest. “Make yourself at home, Flynn,” Tully said. “And don’t mind Clarence. He’s a Protestant.”
    “You showed up just in time, Bo,” the priest said. “I made the mistake of complimenting Buck on his scars, and I think he’s about to take off his shirt to show me some more.”
    Two years before, Buck had spent several weeks in the hospital