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minute sweet talking me will get you a pass
on seein’ the doc.  You’re gonna go even if I gotta carry ya to his office.”
    Zeb knew she was right.  His stomach hadn’t been
normal since he had a couple of bouts of the flu a while back.  His gut was not
that bad, but it wasn’t strong like it had been before he got sick.  How Doreen
knew what was bothering him was another one of those little mysteries about
women that puzzled him.  He checked his breath by putting his hand in front of
his mouth and blowing into his palm.  It smelled sickly, a bit like an
infection.  The chamomile tea seemed to calm his stomach and the biscuits were
heavenly.  Twice Doreen reminded him he was eating too fast.
    “I gotta run, Doe.  I have a thousand places to begin
the investigation into the school bomb threat.  There are almost too many
possibilities to know exactly where to begin.”
    “Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”
    “Now that you mention it, I guess the beginning is as
good of a place as any.”
    “Don’t get sassy with me or your tummy will start
howlin’ again.  That’s the way those things work, ya know.”
    Zeb reached for his wallet.  Doreen refused his
payment and handed him a blueberry muffin for Helen.  
    “Somebody’s gotta give ya’ a break, big guy.  Ya’ know
what they say--charity reaches out its longest arm to a lover.”
    Zeb grabbed his hat and made for the exit.  He tossed
Doreen a subtle wink, and after making certain the churchmen were looking the
other way, Zeb blew Doreen a quick air kiss. 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Outside of the Town Talk Diner the air was crystal
clear; the sky, with sparse clouds floating over the mountain, was blue and
bright.  Suddenly Zeb felt physically better than he had in weeks. Maybe he
would get a quick break on the bomb threat investigation.  He took a deep,
relaxing breath. He concluded that probably some angry, foolish kid had made
the call to impress his buddies.  Odds were pretty good that before long one of
the punks would be crowing about how they had pulled a fast one over on the
cops.  With any luck he would have the caller behind bars in less than a week. 
It made no sense getting worked up over a lousy day and a bad couple of weeks. 
He would do his job.  He would get to the bottom of all the recent
shenanigans.  Something this big would bring him leads by tomorrow at the
latest.  Maybe he would have the bomb threat wrapped up in nothing flat. Even
the possibility of his brother, Noah, being the car thief who stole the red
corvette seemed less likely. He hoped that the car dealer had mistaken someone
else for Noah.  But Zeb also knew that with his brother’s history, his hopeful
thinking was likely unrealistic optimism.  Zeb knew Noah had been full of
criminal intent since he was a pre-teen.  There was no reason to believe that
anything had changed.
    Zeb was glad his old friend Max Muñoz was the
detective involved with Lorenzo García’s stolen truck in Tucson. The fact that
a dead body had been found in the truck was bad news, real bad news.  While the
victim was not really his problem, there was an outside chance that there was
some sort of connection to the Garcías.  He decided to wait to call his old
buddy until after he got the report from the Tucson police department, and
after Delbert had time to explain to old man García what had happened to his
truck. 
    Maybe the psychological trauma of having a dead body found
in his truck would stir up something in Lorenzo’s memory.  Maybe the old man
had seen something and blocked it out or ignored it.  Now with his truck gone
forever, it might just unlock the part of his mind that held a clue.  More than
once in this type of a circumstance Zeb had seen people cough up knowledge they
didn’t know they had.  At the state sheriff’s convention he had attended a
seminar on repressed memory.  Yes, this could certainly be that