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Authors: James Scott Bell

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Chapter 72
Detective CO Brady put his hand out, indicating Sandy should take a seat.
It’s the hand of death, she thought. I’m out of here again. Didn’t follow protocol. Good excuse to get the axe out and—
“Detective Epperson,” Brady said. “I’d like your side of the story.”
“My side of what story?”
Brady did the little drumming thing with his fingers on the desk. Oh so theatrical. Sandy wanted to rap his knuckles.
“The Raymond Hunt story,” Brady said. “Did you know that Ray Hunt and I knew each other?”
“As a matter of fact I did.”
Brady frowned. “How?”
She felt really petty, but said it anyway. “Oh, by observing things. You know, like that picture on the wall behind you?”
Her CO looked behind, saw the picture, turned back and smiled. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”
Sandy shook her head, and was reaching for her shield to throw it on the desk when he added, “Because I do.”
“You what?”
Brady picked up the desk phone, punched a button, said, “Send him in,” and hung up.
A moment later Mark Mooney entered the office, his puffed out chest with him.
“What is this?” Sandy said.
“That meeting I told you about,” Mark said.
“Your partner,” Brady said, “got the Raymond Hunt confession all clean and neat.”
“That’s what he told me,” Sandy said. “He must be a super detective.”
“He is. He was trained by one of the best.”
“Excuse me?” She looked at Brady first, then Mark. Mark was smiling. He went to the corner of Brady’s desk and sat. “I was just telling Cap that I really don’t want you to get a big head or anything.”
“What does that even mean?” Sandy said.
“Gut instinct,” Mark said.
Sandy waited.
“The other night when you called me to give me your theory about Ray Hunt, after I hung up, I don’t know, I got a little gut instinct myself. I thought, Now what would Detective Epperson do?”
He smiled.
Sandy did not smile.
“So I thought I’d go have a little talk with Mr. Hunt. At his house. At night. Catch him when he’s not expecting anybody. And when I got there, the door was open. And Jimmy Stone was inside threatening our Mr. Hunt. It’s what we detectives like to call serendipity.”
“That’s a big word,” Brady said. “Even for you.”
“Especially for you,” Sandy said.
“What I’m saying, partner, is that you da man.”
“I don’t want to be da man,” Sandy said.
“But you are,” Brady said. “And we can’t have that around here.”
“What?”
“I’m going to give you two days to clean out your desk and hand your files over,” Brady said.
“But—”
“And then if you need help moving it all to your new office at RHD, I’ll give you hand.”
“Not me,” Mark said. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Wait a minute,” Sandy said. “What just happened?”
“You’re gonna be one of the best,” Mark said. “Try not to blow it.”
Ten minutes later she was back at her desk, still numb, picturing how her mom and dad might have looked if they’d been here to hear the news. They would have liked this kettle of fish.
Her phone buzzed.
“Detective Epperson,” she said.
“Chuck Samson.”
“Mr. Samson. Well, how you doing?”
“Better than most, not as good as some.”
“Maybe that’s the best that can be said for any of us. The Feds treating you right?”
“They love me. That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh?”
“You still have an unsolved case, I believe,” Chuck Samson said. “The killing you tried to pin on me.”
“You mean Grant Nunn? Look, we never really thought—”
“You were doing your job. I’m good with that. I also know who did it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You want the guy who killed Grant Nunn, don’t you?”
Instinctively, Sandy grabbed a pencil. But she tapped the eraser end on her desk. “Mr. Samson, you have a theory?”
“No, I have the guy. Or I should say the Feds do. Agent DeSoto, you know her, she’s the one to contact.”
“This is for real?”
“It’s all recorded down at the federal building.”
She used the pencil to write
DeSoto
on a piece of scrap paper. “I’ll follow this up.” She paused. “What about you, Mr. Samson? What are your plans?”
“Teaching,” he said.
“Where?”
“Same place.”
“But I thought, the administrator . . .”
“The parents came together to save the school. The school board voted to change the name to Academy of the Hills. All the teachers are staying.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you. And for the kids.”
“You keep holding that thought, Detective.”
“Done deal, Mr. Samson.”
Chapter 73
Los Angeles Times
State Department Denies Rumors of Gold Cache in Afghanistan
Afghani Government Asking Questions
The State Department today issuedan unqualified denial of rumors that a cache of gold has been recovered in a desolate area of Afghanistan known as the “Iron Stove.”
“I can state categorically that these rumors are false,” Assistant Secretary of State Erik Pappalardo said. “We do not withhold information like that from the Afghan government, and certainly not when it comes to something like gold.”
But the Afghan liaison to the State Department, Aarif Chowdhari, told reporters he believes the gold does exist and that is “has been stolen from our country.”
Chapter 74
“I’m glad to see you looking so well, Stan,” Mr. Cambry said.
Stan was back inside Ralphs, his domain, his world, his place, his work. He loved it here, and he was back. He was sore. He was bandaged. He was told not to do anything too strenuous. But this was work! “Mr. Cambry, I’m sorry I missed work. I really am.”
The boss smiled. “All you have to do is call in. Let me know what’s going on.”
“There was something going on all right.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
Stan was about to tell him. The words were on his lips, bubbling up from his throat. But then he saw old Mr. Manchester coming in with his cane. “I’ll tell you about it later, Mr. Cambry. I have to see the specials. People are gonna want to know about the specials!”
Mr. Cambry gave him a slap to the shoulder and Stan walked to the door and grabbed a specials flyer.
Doritos were $1.88!
Oh boy, he was going to tell Chuck about that for sure. Chuck
loved
Doritos.

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