of Crime Scene Photographer for the county, which really only allowed her unofficial access.
I had a feeling however, that with these men all being executives, there would be very little in useful information from the law side of things. Maybe Abby would be able to dredge something up off of the internet. She was a wiz with a computer, a skill that I as of yet hadn’t invested much time in.
Give me a file cabinet full of records and I was happy!
Sitting at a stoplight, I glanced into my rearview and spied the Road Runner a few cars back…either that or another one that was as equally restored.
Not believing I would be getting tailed, especially with someone driving a classic hotrod, I nonetheless decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Turning right, I headed down Walnut Street and into the city center…plenty of places to lose someone there.
The red hotrod did indeed take a right when the light changed. Still not totally convinced, I took another right onto Center Street, accelerating to gain some distance as I kept an eye out behind me.
Sure enough, the Road Runner turned down Center Street, but by then I had gained a couple of blocks on him. Rolling through a couple of stop signs, I took a left on Front Street and headed toward the river. Hitting High Street and making a left, I just caught a glimpse of the red hood coming around the corner behind me.
Accelerating once more, I pulled into the next street and parked across the road from the courthouse, quickly exiting the SUV and running across the street. My goal was a copse of large trees in the courthouse yard, and I made it into them just as the Road Runner came into view. I watched from hiding as it made the turn, then slowed when the driver spotted my parked truck. Idling slowly by, the driver angled into the next open slot about eight parking spaces down from mine. I quickly pulled my gun and ran along a row of hedges along the opposite side of the street from the car. Reaching the railroad tracks, I hid my weapon and tried to act nonchalant as I crossed the street once more.
Quickly cutting in behind the first parked car, I crouched down and made my way to the car beside the old Roadrunner. Glancing over the trunk of the car, I observed that the driver was straining his neck looking back toward my truck. Taking advantage of his distraction, I quickly rounded the back of the car beside his in a crouch, rising as I came to his open window.
All movement inside the car ceased as the sound of my gun’s hammer made itself known.
“Nice car,” I stated coolly.
Chapter 10
September 15, 1999
The man was still for a few moments, “Do I have the honor of meeting the Gabriel Celtic?”
I was taken aback for a few seconds until I realized that most people know the name of the person they are tailing.
“Maybe,” I said tersely, “And who might you be? And why are you following me?”
The driver turned his head toward me, and I noticed that he wore Elvis sunglasses; his coal black hair slicked back tightly to his head.
“Truth be known Mr. Celtic….I was trying to find you. I would like to work for you.”
Shocked would be an understatement of my reaction at that moment.
“Work for me?”
“Yessir…I have heard great things about your work…I’d like to help.”
I realized at that moment I was standing in the middle of the street with my gun pointed at a stranger in the middle of town. This was sure to draw unwanted attention soon.
“Are you armed?” I asked the stranger, who spread his coat lapels for me to see he wasn’t wearing a piece.
“I have a .38 in the glove box…unloaded.” Pointing down to his seat, he questioned, “May I?”
I nodded; keeping my gun trained on his head as he reached over into the passenger seat and grabbed a book laying there.
“This is the tool of choice for me these days Mr. Celtic.”
In his hand was a very professional looking Bible. I have always called the good, soft sided