The Sham (A Chloe Boston Mystery Book 14) Read Online Free PDF Page B

was bent over with my hands on my knees gasping for breath. The head threatened to pull me all the way over. Eventually I caught just enough wind to speak.
    “Would somebody please help me take off this stupid head?” I pleaded as more officers arrived.
    With the help of Officer Bryce, straps were unbound from my body and snaps unfastened from my shirt allowing us to lift the massive head from my shoulders and lay it gently at the curb. Sweat was streaming down my face beneath the ovoid. I took a seat on the curb beside my damaged Bill head.
    Gordon was eventually able to raise himself allowing Bryce to handcuff Mr. Black and lead him away spitting oaths and threats of lawsuits for police brutality. Gordon stumbled to the curb and took a seat beside me.
    “Boston, why the heck were you chasing that guy in that stupid getup?” Gordon asked.
    “I wasn’t chasing him. I was chasing you to let you know that guy was armed.”
    “You mean you were trying to save me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Wow. Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it. Besides, Althea would have killed me if I allowed you to get killed. I’m more afraid of Althea than I am of guns.”
    “Good point,” he said in agreement.
    “Are you two alright?” the Chief asked.
    “I’m not suffering from anything a beer or two wouldn’t help fix,” Gordon replied.
    “I’m going inside to collect Mayor Gilhoolie,” said the Chief. “Then I’ll join you at Harry’s Hofbrau. If ever a day needed to end with a drink, this is the one.”
    “What do you say, Boston?” Gordon asked.
    “You’re on!”

Chapter 7

    “So, there was no sign of McConnell at the restaurant when you went back to arrest him?” I asked the Chief.
    I was feeling a little tipsy having finished half of my green beer. I had already stuck out my tongue and discovered the tip was green
    “Nope. He must have slipped out the back way while we were chasing down Mr. Black,” the Chief replied. “He won’t get far without wheels.”
    “Actually, I loaned the mayor the keys to my truck while you were all out,” my father admitted.
    “You did what?”
    “He said there was something he had to pick up at his motel room.”
    “So he now has your truck?”
    “I suppose,” my father replied, nonchalantly taking a swig of his beer.
    “We’ll probably find it parked at the train station in Seattle,” the Chief commented. He didn’t offer to put out an APB. Maybe he was thinking it would be best for everyone if the mayor got away.
    “I’d be much obliged if you’d keep your eye out for it, Chief,” my father replied.
    “And earlier this afternoon you transferred the $10,000 to McConnell’s offshore account?” I asked, downing another sip.
    “That’s right,” my father confirmed.
    “Even though I asked you to wait until you heard from me.”
    “The city council refused to wait. They argued that an obligation was an obligation.”
    “That’s just bad luck, that’s what that is,” Gordon commented.
    We were all sitting at the bar at Harry’s. My father, the Chief and Gordon to my right and Alex and Blue to my left. The place was packed and noisy as a hen’s nest when the fox gets in. The green beer was flowing freely and everyone seemed happy, everyone except the six of us at the bar. Even Blue seemed a little depressed, most likely from sensing our mood.
    “You know that this day probably spells the end of your term as mayor,” I told my father.
    “So what,” he replied. “I didn’t want to be mayor anyway.”
    “You probably shouldn’t have run for the office then,” Alex replied, ever the smart-aleck.
    “What about you, Chief?” I asked. “Will today’s excitement threaten your job as well?”
    “Maybe,” he replied. “But then I hear the position of mayor may be opening up soon.”
    My dad and the Chief shared a good chuckled over that one.
    I’d like to say that I was surprised when the first dart embedded itself in the bar top between my hands, but I wasn’t. We