Free The Double-Jack Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) by Patrick F. McManus Page A

took Pap’s hat off his head and handed it to him. The three of them sat down on a couch across from Finch. “What brings you all the way up here, Sheriff Tully? I hope we haven’t broken any laws.”
    “Not at all, sir. Actually, the three of us are up here on vacation,” Tully said. “My father here is an amateur goldprospector and is fascinated by old gold mines. He was wondering if you would give us permission to look around the old Finch Mine.”
    “I don’t see why not, as long as you promise not to sue me if you fall down an empty shaft. Seriously, the whole underground system is rotten. There may still be some gold down there, but it would be too expensive to get to. I’m not a miner anyway.”
    “Oh, we just want to look around,” Tully said. “My dad lived in one of the houses up there when his dad worked in the mine back in the thirties.”
    They went on discussing the mine until Mrs. Finch came in with the tea and some crumb cake. “You all had the good fortune to arrive on one of the few days I happened to do some baking,” she said. “When we’re done with the tea, I want to show you some of the Bo Tully watercolors we have bought over the years. We just love your paintings, Mr. Tully. When are you ever going to give up law enforcement and become a full-time painter?”
    “Maybe the next election,” he said. “You never know about voters.”
    Finch laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry too much about elections anymore, not with the popularity of the Bo Tully Freezer Day.”
    “Oh, that has nothing to do with politics,” Tully said.
    “Right,” Finch said, still smiling. “You fellas believe that for a second?” he said to Pap and Dave.
    “Not for a second,” Dave said. “Bo may seem lackadaisical,but he never makes a move without planning it out in detail first. Never ask him to explain anything. He will bore you to death with the details.”
    Pap said, “You mind if I have another piece of that crumb cake, Mrs. Finch?”
    “Goodness no,” she said. “I’m just delighted you like it so much.”
    “As soon as your father finishes with his cake, I’ll show you all around,” Finch said. “Besides Bo Tully paintings we collect a few other things.”
    “Oh, show Dave and Bo around, Teddy. Pap and I will just chat. I want to know what he’s been up to since he’s no longer sheriff himself.”
    “You remember when I was sheriff?” Pap said.
    “I do indeed! Those were such wonderful times, all the gambling and drinking and dancing all night. I remember when you killed those three bank robbers and got shot yourself. You were such a hero! I just loved it all!”
    Pap beamed.
    Finch took Dave and Bo into a large adjoining room and pointed up to shelves along the walls near the ceiling. The shelves were lined with dozens of baskets and clay pots. “These are mostly from coastal Indians, but the ones in the next room are from interior tribes, the Spokanes and Coeur d’Alenes and some Kootenai and Nez Perce.”
    “They’re wonderful,” Dave said.
    “They’re mostly Margaret’s doing, but they keep her occupied. Now, step into my den and I’ll show you what interestsme.” He led them into the den, the walls of which were covered with firearms, including a blunderbuss.
    Tully pointed at the blunderbuss. “Don’t tell me that’s an original.”
    Teddy reached up and took the gun down. He handed it to Tully. “Oh yes, they’re all originals. I’m afraid I can’t take the credit for collecting them. That was the work of my grandfather Jack Finch, but I love looking at them and thinking about where they’ve been and how they were used. No doubt they killed a great many people.”
    Tully handed the gun back and Teddy replaced it on the wall. “I’ve never before held that much history in my hands. I could almost feel it flowing through me.”
    Teddy nodded. “I get the same feeling myself.”
    “What kind of man was your grandfather?” Tully asked.
    “I