2 - Secrets: Ike Schwartz Mystery 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t think it would be on very long, or someone else put it on for him.”
    “Um, well I got two outta three there, Ike.”
    The remains of Waldo Templeton, neatly packaged in a blue plastic body bag, were deposited into the coroner’s van. The driver and his helper slammed the rear doors shut, climbed in front, and pulled out of the parking lot. Ike watched as it turned and drove away.
    “Ike,” Billy said, his eyes also on the van, “about them bullet holes.”
    “What about them?”
    “Well, I’m thinking they were small caliber, maybe .25, no more’n a .32. That usually means whoever did the shooting must have been a pro, don’t you think?”
    “Maybe. TV shows and books pretty much spread that notion around, but killers generally use the weapons that feel comfortable. Some pretty big time killers use some real cannons.”
    “Oh.” Billy turned and looked disappointed. He reached for his left breast pocket and then dropped his hand. He’d quit smoking the week before, but hadn’t shed the habit of reaching for the pack when he had a problem to solve.
    “Well, what I meant to ask you is—assuming small caliber means a professional— how come he took two shots? One is in the shoulder and not anywhere near fatal. Then, there is the perfectly centered shot to the head.”
    “No telling. Too dark, or he rushed his shot, or the victim moved. My guess—the shoulder wound served as an attention getter. The shooter hits him in the arm or shoulder to spin him around, then he drills him. The second shot is either lucky or the guy is what you suspect, a pro.”
    Billy thought a minute and said, “I’m betting on pro.”
    “If you’re right, there’s no way we’ll catch him. A hit man will be long gone by now. If he’s still here, he’s put together an iron clad alibi.”
    “Might be a she.”
    “Might be.”
    “So, besides playing the organ, who is this guy, Templeton, anyway?” Billy asked.
    “We’ll have to find that out first thing. Check out his ID, find out where he lived and search his place. The coroner will give us a set of prints and a dental work-up sometime Monday. We’ll run them through the County’s program and see if we get a hit. Either way, we’ll send them off to the Bureau, too.”
    “Funny about the church, him getting shot in it, I mean,” Billy said.
    “Maybe more important than funny. What are the chances? Churches aren’t exactly the venue of choice for a shooting.” Ike scuffed his toe against the gravel and turned the idea over in his mind. He believed he’d just said something significant, but couldn’t think what. He hoped it would come to him later.
    Ike glanced at his watch. Too late for lunch and too early for dinner. Friday afternoon and soon they’d both be caught up in the weekend craziness caused by youthful exuberance, hormones, and beer. Ike made a point to put himself in the duty rotation like any of his deputies. He’d drawn the weekend. No date tonight. He’d call Ruth anyway.

Chapter Seven
    September’s promise, in the southwestern corner of Virginia, is cooler weather. When that relief will arrive, however, is never certain. Ike mopped his brow and contemplated a career change in a location with a more varied climate. Someplace, anyplace, where the humidity did not compete with the temperature for top spot and summer confined its presence to a reasonable three months. The building that housed, among other things, the sheriff’s office, had just been rehabbed, and a new, but erratic, air conditioning system installed.
    “It’s all zoned,” Solly Fairmont, the town’s new Maintenance Supervisor said, beaming.
    Where the zones began and ended remained an unsolvable mystery to the employees captive within the walls of the Municipal Building. Sam Ryder complained for two weeks about the heat and the need to keep her computers and their myriad appendages cool. Finally she threw up her hands and purchased a small window unit, stuck its homely