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

recovering from gunshot wounds. Tully was fairlysure the shots had been meant for him, not Buck. They both had been driving red sheriff’s department Ford Explorers. He said, “Forget the body scars, Buck. The only worthwhile scars are those on your face, and you have a couple of nice ones. Make him far handsomer than he was before, don’t you think, Flynn?”
    “That’s hard to imagine.”
    “I know. He’s still ugly as sin but at least the scars give him some character.”
    “Thanks,” the deputy said. “It’s nice to be appreciated.”
    Pap strolled up. “I’ve got a lot more impressive scars than Buck.” He started to unbutton his shirt.
    Tully said, “I just explained scars don’t amount to much if you’ve got to unbutton your shirt every time you want to show them off. What happened, Padre—this was back in the sixties—three bad guys were holed up behind a pile of logs. The other law-enforcement guys were using common sense and waiting them out. Pap showed up, walked over the log pile, and killed all three of them with a pump shotgun, but not before they put a few bullets in him. He later got a medal from the governor for stupidity beyond the call of reason.”
    “Heroism!” Pap corrected. After pointing out the little pucker marks from the bullets, he buttoned his shirt back up.
    “Very impressive,” the priest said.
    “Don’t encourage him, Flynn,” Tully said. “By the way, you make a contribution to my Freezer Day?”
    “You bet. The toughest elk meat ever visited upon the folks of Blight County.”
    “I told you not to shoot, but would you listen? No.”
    “I never listen to a heathen when it comes to shooting the biggest elk I’ve ever seen,” the priest said. “Speaking of hunting, I hope your friends are taking good care of the birds on their ranch.”
    “I assume you are talking about Quail Creek Ranch. You’re just lucky, Flynn, that you get to associate with a person dearly beloved by the owners of that property. As a matter of fact, they put in a new guzzler for the birds up in the high country.”
    “Guzzler?” said the priest. “What’s a guzzler?”
    “It’s a big tub-like thing that catches rainwater and stores it for the birds. Guzzlers are one reason Quail Creek Ranch provides fantastic bird hunting over several thousand acres. They’ve got three or four scattered around.”
    “The quail have a creek to drink from.”
    “Not in the high country. It’s very dry up where the chukars hang out.”
    “Those are two of the orneriest old women in the country,” Pap said. “But they do love Bo.”
    “Hey, don’t talk about my friends that way,” Tully said.
    “It’s just that all the ladies love Bo,” Pap said.
    “You still dating the medical examiner?” Flynn asked.
    “On-again, off-again.”
    “I ain’t touching that one,” Buck said.
    “Me, neither,” said Pap. “Not with the padre sitting here.”
    Tully chose not to mention that Susan Parker had tired of him and taken up with an airline pilot.
    Just then a freckled kid in bib overalls came by. He was gnawing on a rib. He stopped and looked at Clarence. “That your dog, Bo?”
    “I guess.”
    “Can I pet him?”
    “If you want to, Richy. Matter of fact, I’ll give him to you.”
    Richy walked up on the porch and over to Clarence. “Dang! He tried to bite me, Bo! I don’t want no dog that bites!”
    “I figured you might be picky,” Tully said. “If you know some fellows don’t mind a minor flaw in a dog, send them over to me, okay, Richy?”
    The kid stomped off.
    Tully stretched and yawned. “Well, it’s getting to be a long day, guys. I better let you folks hold down the porch here, while I stop by the office and wake up my skeleton crew. Buck, I got Pugh up in the studio, probably napping. Tell him he might as well go home.”
    “I bet you got him on the lookout for Kincaid,” Buck said. “Shucks, old Lucas would be crazy, try to kill you.”
    “He
is
crazy,