Free Adios Angel by Mark Reps Page B

gun
case?”
    “Be my guest.  The sooner you have a look at it the
sooner I can replace the broken glass.”
    Zeb touched the ridge of the entry point on the glass
case.  It had been etched, leaving only a smooth cut.  Inside the case were
ultrafine shards of glass.  The thief had been quiet, clever and obviously
experienced.
    “Would I be likely to find anyone else’s finger prints
on this cabinet?”
    “On the top glass you’re going to find anyone’s who
leaned on the cabinet.  You know how people are.  They put their finger on the
glass and point at something they want to have a look at.  I clean the glass
every day.  I’m certain I cleaned it the day before I ended up in the
hospital.  I was only open a short time on the morning of the robbery.  I don’t
recall anyone browsing this case, but I could be wrong.  If there are any
prints there, they could be from my unwanted guest.  My prints should be the
only ones on the back side of the case.  I keep it locked and have the only
key.”
    “Can you keep people away from it until I can get Deputy
Steele over here later to dust it for prints?”
    “No problem.  In fact have her come over as soon as
she can.”
    “You seem eager to see her.”  
    The men exchanged a knowing smile as the cowbell above
the entry door clanged again.  Zeb turned to see a local man whom he
recognized.  He tipped his hat to the man and they exchanged hellos.  He had
come for a box of twelve gauge shells and some .22 cartridges.  He mumbled
something about varmint hunting which caused Josh to laugh and make a quip
about it being varmint season. 
    When Josh walked through the swinging doors to get the
ammunition, Zeb got a clear view of the back office.  A professional could have
easily staked out the inside of the building.  An eerie feeling came over him
as he thought about Josh Diamond, expert tracker and man hunter, having his
office space and business stalked by someone with a devious and clever eye for
plotting a crime. 
       
     
        

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Ángel took a long pull on the tequila bottle. He began
to feel better.  It had been another sad and empty night without his beloved
Juanita.  His longing for her brought her to life in his daydream.   During his
prison lockup he counted the days, the hours and finally the minutes until he
was paroled.   His beautiful Juanita had written him a letter every day. 
Sometimes she would scent it with sweet perfume.  Sometimes he could smell the
heavenly fragrance of their lovemaking.  He ached to run his fingers through
her long black hair.  To caress her silky soft skin would be divine.  Ángel
sighed until his lungs ached with emptiness.  His love for Juanita was larger
than just about everything else in the world. 
    But the demonic tequila despised his thoughts of
love.  Suddenly the devil recoiled in his mind.  Tears pooled heavily beneath
his eyelids.  He had no strength to fight against the Demon Tequila that stole
his sense even when he thought of his sainted mother.  She had died while he
was in prison.   His grandfather had written the warden asking for a simple,
humble favor.  Could Ángel be released from prison for one day so he could go to
his own mother’s funeral?  His grandfather even promised the warden on his dead
daughter’s soul that he would return Ángel to prison the minute the funeral was
over.  Other men had received this sort of favor.  These men had committed much
worse crimes than Ángel.  The warden had laughed at his grandfather.  The
warden even spit on him.  He said Ángel could not be trusted in the hands of a
frail, old man.  The boy would “run like a dingo dog”. Those were his exact
words.  He had called Ángel’s grandfather frail and untrustworthy.  He had
called Ángel a dog. Ángel knew the warden hated him. The warden hated all the
brown skins. He despised the Apache, who he called “goddamned redskins with no
souls”. He called