Champagne for Buzzards Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t look at the thing in the back of the truck. “Who is it, Tully?” Ziggy said.
    It took some time for Tully to answer. “Head’s pretty battered but it looks like Lucan Percell to me.”
    â€œOh no,” I whimpered. Lucan Percell was the man Clay had driven off his land for poaching the turtles along Saddle Creek. Lucan Percell had bagged about sixty soft-shell turtles when Clay caught him. When Clay called the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission he was told that the mass hunting of soft-shell turtles was legal; only the gopher tortoise was protected. A long and heated war had begun between Clay and Lucan. Only Clay’s threat to have Lucan Percell arrested for trespassing could keep him off Saddle Creek and keep the turtles safe.
    It couldn’t be a coincidence that Lucan Percell’s body was found on Clay’s Riverwood Ranch. “Oh no,” I said again. Trouble had surely come to visit.
    Uncle Ziggy led me away, up onto the porch, shoving me down into one of the wicker chairs. He left without saying anything while I leaned forward, putting my head between my knees and took deep breaths.
    â€œDrink this,” Uncle Ziggy ordered, holding out a glass of amber liquid. The whiskey burned all the way down. I handed it back to him and croaked, “More.”
    â€œNope, you got to stay sober.” Tully climbed the steps to the veranda.
    â€œGreat! Of all the times for you to turn into a tea-totaller on me. Just when I need a friend the most.”
    â€œWe have to decide what we’re going to do.”
    â€œI already know what I’m going to do. I’m going to call the sheriff.”
    â€œNope,” Tully disagreed. “I’m going to. I’m going to put the truck under the drive shed where it was and call the sheriff. Tell him I just found it there.”
    I shook my head in denial. “It’s my truck and I’ve been driving around Jacaranda all morning. People saw me. One thing I learned from Styles, no matter what you tell the police, or any other authorities, you’re stuck with it. Any inconsistencies will come back to bite you.”
    â€œYou sure you don’t want your dad and I to just take him out and bury him somewhere?” Uncle Ziggy asked. “Clay’s got hundreds of acres of wilderness out there with more than one gator hole to drop him into. Even if the gators leave anything of him behind, cops will think he just had an accident. Everyone knows he poaches all ’round here.”
    â€œZig’s got a point there.”
    â€œEveryone knows he and Clay don’t get on. You aren’t listening; I’m going to tell them I found his body. Clay will be well out of it. No matter what happens, no one can think I killed him.”
    â€œAll right, don’t get excited, we’ll do whatever you want,” Tully said, patting my shoulder.
    â€œSure we will, sweetie,” Uncle Zig agreed, but he didn’t sound like he thought it was a real good idea, more like he just wanted to keep me from totally losing it.
    â€œCan I have another drink now?”
    â€œNope,” Tully said.
    â€œWell, this is a hell of a time to go AA on me.”
    â€œYou need to stay clear-headed,” Tully said and went to look up the sheriff’s number.

CHAPTER 8
    I ditched the suit and was back on the porch in time for the first official to arrive, a deputy named Michael Quinn. He introduced himself calmly, like he was making a social call. Tall and slim, his good looks would normally have held my attention but today nothing was going to distract me from the horror in my truck.
    Deputy Quinn listened to what I had to say and then went to his car and got out a small canvas carryall. At the pickup, he pulled on disposable gloves before lifting the blue tarp. He spent some time considering what was before him and then he gently lowered the tarp.
    A second car arrived in a cloud of dust, a