Free IT LIVES IN THE BASEMENT by Sahara Foley Page A

maybe cost him his pension?  And more than that, his plan could cost him his life, along with the life’s of his friends.
    Back in March, after his old friend Captain Reames retired, Carter was promoted from Lieutenant to Captain.  Then, in late June, he received a letter from the Mayor’s office informing him of his mandatory retirement within the next year.  So he had maybe one year, but probably less, before he was no longer a detective but became a man of leisure.
    Playing with his spinning rod, he told himself he was crazy, and to forget the whole fiasco.  But after last night, then this morning, he knew he couldn’t.  He had no choice.  He had to go through with his life-threatening plan.  But he also knew his plan had to be executed while he was still a detective, or the outcome would be meaningless. 
    As he sat trying to untangle his fishing line from the weeds sticking out from the water’s edge, he found himself wishing he had been at work.  Been anywhere but this lake last night.  He didn’t want to think about what he’d witnessed and heard, but he couldn’t stop himself.  With a weary sigh, he knew there wasn’t any way to go back to his safe, ignorant life either.  At 4:01 am, he’d started the initial phase of his plan by placing a telephone call, from the brick building that housed the showers and toilets.  That call was made to a Detective Sergeant named Pete Alvarez. 
    When a half-asleep Alvarez answered the phone, Carter told him, “Pete, this is John Carter; I have to see you today.  Bring your briefcase, it’s about a Tescara.”  Alvarez was suddenly wide awake.
    Sweating and shaking, Carter made arrangements for place and time, advising Alvarez to bring a fishing pole.   The fishing wasn’t exactly the greatest, due in part to a three-year drought in the area, but also in part to the intense heat.  When John and his wife, Cathy, had pitched their tent on Thursday, the temperature was ninety-four degrees.  On Friday, it was ninety-six, and today, the Third of July and his birthday, the temperature was again supposed to be in the upper nineties.
    The weatherman on the TV station Cathy watched predicted a two-week period of high temperatures in the Omaha Metro area, ranging from ninety-five to one hundred and five.  Having already planned his two-week camping and fishing trip, Carter was pleased with the forecast.  The best place to be, during the hottest part of the summer, was camping in a tent.  Also, being on vacation meant he wouldn’t have to deal with all the asinine problems police officers in the city had to deal with when the temperatures soared.
    Carter’s bro ther-in-law, Mark Sagano, sauntered over to him carrying a cold beer.  They’d been up all night fishing, and the time was now 5:35 am.  Their wives were still sleeping, one in a tent and the other in a pop-up camper.
    His wife, along with family and friends, wanted to throw a 60th birthday party for him.  Since it was also the Fourth of July weekend, they decided to have his party at one of his favorite area lakes so they could do some camping and fishing.  Carter’s birthday party had been on Friday, the second, that way his family and friends could still enjoy the rest of the long holiday weekend.
    But Mark and John were old fishing buddies; they got along well and enjoyed each other’s company.  Their wives would usually go with them, but if not, the men would take off together and go fishing; especially at night, for their favorite eating fish, the catfish.  Of course, there were always copious amounts of cold beer, and although they went to catch fish, if they didn’t catch any, the lack of fish didn’t really matter.  Both men and their wives enjoyed being outdoors fishing and camping.
    Mark was a pleasant, rotund man at five foot and ten inches with a basketball-sized beer-belly and worked as the Assistant DA for Douglas County.  Over the years, the two men worked on many cases