Free Deadly Alliance by Kathleen Rowland Page A

know,” Papa said. “Anyway, I told her you and I planned to drop by.”
    “What was her response?” Finn asked.
    “She said, ‘Anytime, just call first. We’re at the same address.’”
    “Let’s drive down tomorrow morning.”
    “I’ll be ready,” Papa said, “I googled their address. Their house is a tear-down-rebuild.”
    Finn detected censure in his dad’s tone and asked, “Who funded the bill for that project?”
    “Peter Pan?” Papa took a raspy breath. “Wait, he’s in Never-never-land.”
    For the next several minutes they talked about trout fishing. “I’ll rent a pontoon,” Finn said.
    “Can I bring Dolly? She wants to get out on the lake.”
    “Sure, Papa. Sweet Pea, too.”
    “You should invite Amy.” Papa was taking charge. “Let’s double date. All four of us can go fishing. Watch the sunset. Nothing like a fall evening.”
    Didn’t look like he had a choice.
    “Still there, Finn?”
    “You win. I’ll ask Amy. She has a map of the ridge. She wants you to look at it.”
    “I can tell her more about the ridge than a map can, son. You rarely come across anyone up there.”
    Finn said, “Off the beaten path, huh? Guess that’s the point of a map.”
    “Amy has interests. Outside of her, I mean. She’s different than most women you’ve dated.” Papa started coughing and had to hang up. His COPD was chronic, but cool, fresh air on the lake cleared his lungs.
    Finn pondered the Kelly twins. One evil and the other disabled to the point of being non-verbal. Would the sheriff lend a hand for fingerprinting? Twins had the same DNA, but unique prints. He needed more evidence before he ran it by Gary Guhleman.
    He didn’t budge for a few more minutes in the silent room. The scent of raw wood filled his nostrils. The newly constructed Twin Peaks Sheriff Station testified to a growing tax base. His own business was brisk except for the killer drain.
    If not for Papa’s health, he’d leave the crisp mountain air and return to the valley’s smog. He had no affinity for down jackets. Chilly today, his wool sweater gave him a rash.
    He wanted to get up and shut an open window. Maybe it was his headache making his teeth chatter. A chill came in many forms. He scrubbed a hand down his face and looked up to see McGill.
    “Amazing fit,” the sheriff said. “I talked with the detective again. Your losses match the deposits in the phony account.”
    “Minus the withdrawals?” Finn asked.
    “Right,” the cop said.
    “Is the balance under ten thousand?” Finn knew a wire transfer of less than ten large avoided a currency transaction report.
    “Balance is about five thousand.”
    The Roaches need to liquidate. Finn stood up and stretched. “It’ll be interesting to get the full story.”
    McGill said, “I’ll send a pair of cops to watch over Amy’s condo.”
    Finn said, “She’s staying at my place. I’d appreciate it if they keep an eye out.”
    McGill lifted his coffee cup in a salute. “Have a good time. After this mess is over, you’ll have no reason to be together.”
    “Based on—
    —Amy’s dogged dependability. You’re the opposite. When you stop calling, she’ll call you to make sure you’re okay.”
    “I’m predictable, huh.” When a woman wanted to get close, he wanted to run.
    “An excessive caretaker isn’t for you.” McGill shrugged. “Look, bud, got to split. Election’s coming up. I’m meeting a reporter from Alpenhorn News.”
    Finn trusted McGill to serve his constituency. “Guhleman left for the hotel. Leave with your siren on. Be the only guy on the front page. Go.” Finn said it again. “Go,” but wiped his brow with worry. These days, the sheriff operated like a professor or an anthropologist. McGill walked a political path, but failed to beat the bushes.
    * * *
    Amy headed across the parking lot of the Saddleback Inn to meet Finn for dinner, and her body shook like she had some kind of palsy. She imagined being in the Black Forest