Free Stephen Frey by Trust Fund Page B

even an officer as good-natured as Blackburn, but he couldn’t resist the
temptation to start something. As a child he’d always been the one to stir up trouble.
Always the one to hurl a rock at a hornets’ nest or commandeer a canoe out onto the lake without adult supervision. “Do you have to know everyone, Sheriff?” he
asked.
    â€œLibby, Montana, is a small town,” Blackburn said evenly. He
was aware of what Bo was trying to do. They’d played enough poker last winter to understand each other very well. “I like to know everyone.”
    â€œEven visitors?”
    Blackburn aimed the flashlight at the woman. “Especially visitors.” He turned the flashlight beam into Bo’s bloodshot eyes, inspecting the crimson road maps leading to sapphire irises. “What’s her name?”
    Bo shielded his face. “Tiffany.”
    â€œWhere’s she from?”
    â€œMissoula.”
    â€œWhat’s she doing in Libby?”
    â€œParticipating in the local service economy.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œShe’s working.”
    â€œDoing what?”
    â€œGuiding on the Kootenai River,” Bo replied, getting annoyed at the third degree.
    Blackburn snickered. “I doubt she even knows what a fly rod
is.” He aimed the light into the Jeep again. “Judging from those red high heels,
that skirt, or more accurately the lack of it, and that pallid skin, I’d say she’s active in another sector of the service economy.”
    â€œWhat’s your point?”
    â€œAre you and the boys at it again in the back room of Little
Lolo’s?” Blackburn asked, chewing on a toothpick.
    â€œNow, Sheriff,” Bo answered cordially, “you shut us down for the fishing season, remember?”
    â€œUh-huh.” Blackburn gestured at his patrol car. “Why
don’t you take a quick walk with me?”
    â€œAm I under arrest?” Tonight was the third time Blackburn had pulled Bo over in the last month. Bo had avoided arrest on each occasion.
    â€œYou must be drinking vodka, Bo, because I can’t smell a thing on your breath.”
    â€œAm I under arrest?” Bo repeated.
    â€œAnd if I say yes, what then?”
    â€œYou know the drill. I’ll request consultation with my attorney.
Once I make that request you can’t do anything to me until he arrives. That is my right.”
    Blackburn kicked at a pebble. “I suppose it’ll take him a few hours to get here from Kalispell.”
    â€œAt least a few.”
    â€œYou’ll be stone sober by then, won’t you?”
    â€œGive me a little credit, Sheriff. That’s a trick question. I’m not going to incriminate myself.” Bo watched Blackburn exhale heavily. At this point Blackburn had to arrest him without administering a test, or let him go.
    â€œIt’s just a damn good thing most people aren’t as familiar with the law as you.” Blackburn patted Bo on the shoulder. “All right, you can go, but be careful and watch your speed. Slow and steady.”
    â€œThe speed limit in Montana is ‘reasonable and prudent,’ ” Bo replied, hauling himself behind the steering wheel.
    â€œNot anymore,” Blackburn corrected, leaning into the Jeep through the open window, looking for a bottle or a gun, both of which lay concealed beneath the seat. “We changed that.”
    â€œAll right, all right. Seventy-five.”
    â€œSixty at night.”
    Bo squinted at the sun, half hidden by mountain peaks on the west side of the valley. “It isn’t dark yet.”
    â€œI mean it,” Blackburn said firmly. “Take it easy.”
    â€œYeah, yeah.”
    Blackburn took a deep breath. “When you first got out here to Montana a year ago, you were a model citizen. I never saw you take a drink, let alone get behind the wheel of a vehicle with alcohol in your system. Now I hear