Where's Ellen? (Mystery) (MPP A JOE MCFARLAND / GINNY HARRIS MYSTERY Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

first conducted their debate of the pros and cons of pizza vs. Chinese, and then went around the corner and settled in at Sancho’s, the local taco shop, a reasonable peace-making compromise. Half way through their second taco, Ginny got a radio call from the PD’s one civilian employee who served as a combination receptionist, dispatcher, data entry clerk, filing clerk and girl Friday.
    “Ginny, the chief wants to see you and Joe ASAP.”
    “OK. We’ll be there in a few minutes,” replied Ginny.
    Hearing this over Ginny’s two-way radio, Joe muttered, “Uh oh,” thinking that, much like being summoned to the principal’s office, this was rarely a good thing.
    Gobbling up the remainders of their tacos, Joe and Ginny hustled back to the PD and headed for the chief’s office.
    “What the hell did you two do now?” bellowed the chief as he slowly got up from his chair, slammed his office door closed and maneuvered himself back into his chair behind his desk. As there was only one other chair in the office, both Joe and Ginny remained standing.
    “Hello to you, too,” barked back Joe as he rolled his eyes upward and tilted his head toward the ceiling. “What’s your problem this time?”
    “What do you mean, Chief?” asked Ginny calmly, trying to nip in the bud another Chief vs. Joe confrontation.
    “The damn FBI!”
    “Well, that’s something we can agree on. What about the damn FBI?” asked Joe.
    “I just got a call from the Special Agent in Charge in their Cincinnati office. An ASAC and a special agent are on the way here now to talk to the three of us. They want to be sure that we’re here waiting for them.”
    “What do they want to talk about?” asked Joe.
    “The Ellen Sanders case,” responded the chief.
    “What?” exclaimed Ginny. As her cheeks turned bright pink, she continued, “First of all, there is no case yet as it hasn’t been 24 hours since her disappearance. And we specifically didn’t even send our BOLO to the Feebies, knowing they’d ignore it because of the less-than-24 hours.”
    “Well, they obviously know about it! And rather than ignoring it, one of the agents coming here is an Assistant Special Agent in Charge from their Cincinnati office. They’ve completely bypassed their local satellite office in Columbus. So something big is brewing.”
    As they continued discussing this unexpected development, a sharp knock on the chief’s door was immediately followed by the entrance of two men, obviously FBI agents to anyone who even briefly glanced at them. Assistant Special Agent in Charge Dan Martin looked like he’d just arrived out of central casting: his 6-foot 3-inch broad-shouldered build, his light-brown crew cut hair, his dark suit, blue tie and nicely polished shoes all screamed FBI. Special Agent Frank Florio was short, muscular and sharp-nosed; his clothes, however, were smaller twins to those worn by Martin.
    The chief looked at the new arrivals, and gave a quick look and subtle shoulder shrug to Joe and Ginny. Standing up, but remaining behind his desk, the chief faced the two FBI agents. “Hello, Gentlemen,” said the chief. “Let’s go down the hall to the conference room where there’s more room and enough chairs for all of us to sit.” And so they did, with the chief leading the way, followed by the two FBI agents and then Ginny. Joe brought up the rear of the parade, happy to stay 10 feet behind the others. As they were sitting down in the conference room following brief introductions and handshakes, or mere head nods in Joe’s case, the chief continued, “So what brings you folks from the big city to little old Jasper Creek?”
    “I think you already know the answer. The case involving the woman you know as Ellen Sanders,” answered Martin. It was already obvious that Martin would be doing the speaking for the FBI; it wasn’t clear what, if any, role Special Agent Florio would play.
    “Whaddaya mean?” challenged Joe. “We haven’t opened up