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

remember him as a tall, handsome man, with a sweeping mustache not unlike your own, Bo. He was always nice to me in his old age, but I guess he was pretty fierce when it came to some others. My father, Theodore, would go pale and start to tremble at the mere mention of his name, and that was after Jack Finch had been dead for a good many years. Jack rode with Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders. Roosevelt was his hero. Thus the name Theodore for my dad and me.”
    Tully looked around at the guns on the wall. “Well, I’ve got to tell you, Mr. Finch, I’ve never seen so many old guns in one room in my entire life!”
    “Oh,” said Margaret, coming up behind them, “you should see the basement. It’s crammed full of guns.”
    Tully gave her a surprised look. “A basement full of guns?”
    “Yes,” Finch said, “but most of them are not nearly so impressive. There might be a few gems down there, but I’ve never worked up the enthusiasm or the energy to sort them out. Almost all the guns came from my grandfather, the ones here and the ones in the basement.”
    “All from your grandfather?” Dave asked. “He must have been quite the sportsman.”
    “I never knew him well,” Finch said. “But I doubt Jack was much of a sportsman. As I say, my father was scared to death of him.”
    “Jack sounds like my kind of man,” Pap said. “My own daddy was sheriff and my grandpap before him. Both of them knew your dad and your granddad, too. They was real men back then.”
    Finch nodded. “I think you may be right about that, Mr. Tully.”
    Partly to keep Pap from revealing anything more about the family, Tully said, “We shouldn’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Finch. If you will just give us the key to the mine chain, we’ll be on our way.”
    “Oh dear,” Finch said. “It has been so long since any of us has been up there, I’m not sure where the key is right at the moment.”
    “We got a bolt cutter in the truck,” Pap said. “What say we just snip the padlock off and put another lock on when we leave. We can drop the new key off here when we head home.”
    “Bolt cutter?” said Finch. “Why, that’s a good idea.”
    • • •
    On their way to the Finch Mine, Tully stopped in Angst and did some shopping, including the purchase of a new padlock. He would just as soon Pap had kept his mouth shut about the bolt cutter, but it had probably saved them some time. He returned to the truck and put his purchases under the canopy. Pap and Dave were outside, Pap smoking, Dave leaning against the truck, his hands in his pockets. “You fellows want to grab some lunch, or will that crumb cake and tea hold you ’til supper?”
    “I vote for lunch,” Pap said. “That was the worst crumb cake I ever ate.”
    “I agree,” Dave said. “So why did you take a second piece?”
    “I was trying to be polite,” Pap said. “Besides, Margaret and I had a nice little chat. She said old Teddy is quite the greener. He still has his men log steep slopes but leave enough trees for the canopy to shade the slope and slow the snowmelt. They don’t have a single stream in their woods that’s been silted in or flooded out.”
    “There’s a rarity,” Tully said. “This whole county used to be prime fly-fishing, but most of it is gone now. Take a thousand years for it to come back.”
    “What good will that do?” Dave said. “We’ll all be dead by then.”
    “That’s why it will come back.”

9
    A SIGN ON the door of Jake’s Café advertised that lunch was served between eleven and two. “This look okay to you guys?” Tully said.
    “No, but it will do,” Dave said.
    “Must be the hot place to dine in Angst,” Tully said. The café was empty. All the tables were covered with red-checked oilcloths, most of which had bare spots that had apparently been peeled by bored diners. They sat down at a table in the middle of the room. A chubby waitress in a dirty apron came over and gave them menus. “What’s