Rolling Thunder Read Online Free PDF

said: His mother didn’t want to ride the Rolling Thunder. She was afraid of roller coasters.
    But Kevin probably convinced her she needed to be there for PR purposes, the same way political wives have to be there when their husbands call a press conference to confess that they’ve just had an affair with a hooker they met on the Appalachian Trail.
    But what if Kevin O’Malley, for whatever reason, wanted to scare his mother to death?
    Pretty easy way to get away with murder.
    You don’t need a gun or knife or poison or any kind of weapon at all.
    You just need to build a big, honking roller coaster.

6
    W E PULL INTO THE PARKING LOT BEHIND THE HOUSE .
    There are about a dozen white cruisers (detailed in beachy turquoise and flamingo pink) angled into slots on the hot asphalt. The cop cars are flanked by assorted civilian cars, including my Jeep. Ceepak, on the other hand, rides his trail bike to work, lets his wife Rita have their one car, a dinged-up old Toyota.
    The Sea Haven PD building looks like a sprawling split-level suburban home where the world’s biggest ham radio operator lives. We have this huge antenna tower with all sorts of booms and masts angling off it—and still, our TV reception in the break room stinks.
    When we hit the lobby, Chief Buzz Baines, who looks like a handsome TV anchorman back when they all used to have mustaches, is escorting a lumbering Italian bear through the gate in the wooden railing that separates the police from the public.
    Bruno Mazzilli. The baron of the boardwalks. He now owns all four of the amusement piers jutting out into the ocean, including Pier Four, which he purchased at a steal according to what Samantha Starky’s mom told me. Mrs. Starky works in real estate. She knows who owns everything and how much they paid for it. Makes me nervous sometimes. Then again, I don’t own anything except my Jeep, and I sort of share that with PNC Bank.
    â€œCeepak! Boyle!” The chief sees us. “Awesome work out there this morning, guys. Awesome.”
    â€œI only wish we had reached the roller coaster car sooner,” says Ceepak.
    â€œHey,” says Bruno Mazzilli, “your number’s up, it’s up, am I right?”
    Ceepak does not answer.
    Mazzilli turns to the chief. “So, you’ll lean on the M.E.?”
    The chief’s mustache twitches. “I will ask Dr. Kurth to make her findings public ASAP.”
    â€œGood, good. That’s all I’m askin’. Sooner people hear my partner’s wife had a heart attack because, you know, she had a bum ticker or whatever, the sooner they know it wasn’t our fault. We spent a fortune making sure Rolling Thunder is one hundred percent safe.” He turns to us. “Thanks again, boys. You made the whole town look good, runnin’ up the roller coaster like that and all. Makes tourists feel comfortable coming down here knowin’ we got a world-class police operation. The roller coaster reopens next weekend. Let me know if you guys need free tickets. I’ll fix you up with a stromboli, too.”
    Mmm. Stromboli. A rolled-dough sandwich stuffed with salami, provolone, pepperoni, peppers, garlic, and onions, then baked so the grease soaks into the crust. If you don’t puke it up on the first hill of your roller coaster ride, you’ll fart it out on the second.
    â€œSee you ’round, Buzz.”
    Mazzilli leaves.
    â€œYou guys hungry?” asks the chief, maybe picking up on that whole stromboli thread.
    Truth be told, I’m starving. I skipped breakfast, figuring I might snag some fried chicken fingers rolled in Cap’n Crunch on the boardwalk. But then we had to run up a few scaffolded hills, instead.
    Ceepak? The man could live on bran flakes, fruit, and power bars.
    â€œSam Starky brought in doughnuts,” the chief adds.
    Ceepak must see the starved-puppy look in my eyes.
    â€œDoughnuts sound good,” he says.
    I shrug. Try to