The Pied Piper of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’ll drive Bea out there.”
    â€œLook me up at the cottage at nine,” Markham had said and then the phone buzzed a disconnect.
    Rocco Herbert laid a large hand on Lyon’s shoulder. “I want you to know that I have orders from Daddy Warbucks to execute any protesters swilling his free booze.”
    â€œI thought you were busy arresting outside agitators?” Lyon asked the police chief.
    â€œThat’s no fun without being able to toss Bea into a lineup.”
    â€œQuestion,” Lyon said. “You have a coed daughter on the cusp of leaving teenagehood. Does she often speak of death lurking around the corner?”
    â€œOnly if she tries to sneak off for weekends with her latest boyfriend. Then she knows death lurks in the form of one large, angry police chief.”
    â€œYou aren’t up with the times, Rocco. That’s not the way things are anymore.”
    â€œI know how they are, Lyon. I just don’t want to know about it when it comes to my own daughter.” He refused a flute of champagne with a small deprecating wave of his hand. “To further answer your question, teenagers do get fixations on death.”
    â€œSo I seem to remember from my teaching days and the countless submissions of morbid poetry. I wonder if Swan is playing up to Paula with this type of thing.”
    â€œKnowing Swan’s reputation, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Rocco answered.
    â€œWhat doesn’t fit is that he called and wanted me out here for some reason.”
    Rocco held up his hands in mock protest. “Come on, Lyon, when it comes to Swan and women anything goes. Don’t take it seriously.”
    â€œProtests have been known to get out of hand.”
    Rocco laughed. “Did that group outside look like they were plotting a bloody revolution?”
    â€œWell, no, but I’m no expert on revolutions.”
    The remarkably short waiter appeared at Rocco’s side. He carried a silver serving tray holding a tall glass of vodka and tonic. “Your drink, Chief,” he said in his bass voice.
    Rocco took the drink and sipped on it with approval. “Thank you, Rabbit. You make a remarkably good vodka and tonic.”
    â€œI let the tonic bottle’s shadow fall across the vodka, Chief. And I thought we had a deal on the ‘Rabbit’ bit? I prefer to be known as Mr. R. Welch.”
    â€œOf course, Mister R. I’ll call you anything you want as long as you’re clean.”
    â€œChief, I don’t even drive by a filling station if I can avoid it. When our car needs servicing, Frieda does the honors.”
    â€œGlad to hear it Rab … Mister R.,” Rocco said. “Try not to get fired by Mister Piper again, and if you are, stay away from establishments that maintain long hours and cash registers.”
    â€œYou keep up the condescension crap and I’ll punch you out,” the butler replied.
    â€œYou know I have a bad football knee, Rabbit,” Rocco said and immediately regretted the cruel remark.
    Rabbit glared at them. “Big people always have to take the cheap shots, don’t they? I’m going to go water your vodka.” He turned away and returned to the pantry.
    Lyon cocked an eyebrow at Rocco. “What’s all this about gas stations and cheap shots?”
    â€œI didn’t mean to come off as a smart ass,” Rocco replied. “But I swear to God, sometimes Rabbit, or Mister R. as he prefers, leads you right to the trough of cheap comebacks and requires you to drink.”
    â€œAnd the gas stations?”
    â€œThe Welch Rabbit, as we have come to know him in the police trade, has a weakness for gas stations. Therefore, he and I have formed a team. He holds them up and I bust him. He hasn’t done time yet, but he got a suspended sentence in January and I have somehow been appointed his unofficial support group.
    â€œPeriodically they fire him here and he gets these irresistible