Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (read out loud books txt) 📖

worked for her. A pretty, vulnerable woman in the hands of Sly and his Angel friends is not a nice thought.”

“Jesus…”

“So while we wait for the records, I suggest we talk to the Sheriff and ask for the semen sample to be sent to Frank to be tested again. We also get him to check on car rental thefts at the time of the murder, and then we drop in on Public Records and see exactly how far Greg’s ranch stretches, and where Sly and Coy live.”

Fourteen

Dehan rested her ass on the hood of my car and gazed up at the vast, cold, blue Colorado sky, while I phoned the sheriff of Lee County.

“Good morning, Detective Stone. I see you’re up nice and early. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon, I confess.”

“I know that, Sheriff. I am trying to save you trouble and bother. Here’s the situation. The way it is, we might be looking at a major drugs trafficking syndicate operating out of Gold Hill.” I heard a squeak down the line that might have been a ‘What?’ but ignored it and plowed right on. “Now, because the operation would involve the sale of drugs in a state other than Colorado, we might be looking at pulling in the FBI, and believe me, once those boys start turning over your laundry, nobody’s Y-fronts go un-scrutinized, if you take my meaning. And influential people tend to remember that kind of inconvenience when the elections come around.”

“Holy…!”

“Now, here’s the thing. Maybe we can avoid all the bother of a federal investigation, and quietly close down the operation, while solving a murder at the same time and keep everybody happy, and share out the kudos, if you catch my drift…”

I heard him swallow. “Any way I can help…”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say. Cars rented from car hire firms in Denver and Boulder between Friday 6th July and Monday 9th 2012, that were reported stolen. So: stolen car rentals for those dates, from Boulder and Denver.”

“Got it.”

“Also, I need to know the exact extent and limits of Greg Carson’s ranch, and any other land he might own in this district.”

“That’s easy. You’ll find that right there in the library at Seven Hills. Tell Polly I sent you and to give you anything you need.”

“Also…”

“More?”

“More, where do Sly and El Coyote live? And do they own or rent any land?”

“… And all this will prevent the Feds coming up here?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’ll get my boy lookin’ into the stolen vee-hicles right away. You can find Greg’s ranch where I told you, and Sly and Coy, they’re a bit weird, but they ain’t bad folk. They got a house just at the back of a club called the Shack. How can I explain…?”

“We know where the Shack is.”

“You do? You don’t waste time, do you? Well if you turn left just after the Shack and follow the track for a mile and a half, that’ll bring you to their house.”

I thought about it for a moment. “And that same road will bring me to Gold Hill.”

“You got it. That’s right.”

“And I’m going to hazard a wild guess here, Sheriff, but is their house right on the edge of Greg Carson’s land?”

“Well, now you mention it, it’s on Greg’s land. Why?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Now look here, Stone, I hope you ain’t thinking that Greg and Sly and Coy is involved in drugs trafficking! They’re stand-up, law-abiding folk. I run a peaceful county and I don’t want you upsetting people…”

“Thanks Sheriff. You’ve been very helpful. We’ll be in touch.”

Seven Hills Library was a small, modern building that tried to emulate Frank Lloyd Wright without taking any of the risks. There was a squat, three-story central tower in white, with two lateral wings made of local stone. The ceilings were high and there were lots of wooden staircases leading to mezzanine floors. The windows were vast and panoramic and there was an organically shaped lake at the side of the building with a selection of local trees. However, unlike Lloyd-Wright, this architect had kept the forestry on the outside of the building.

The librarian, a woman in her thirties whose smile declared she was determined not to regret wasting her teens and twenties in demure propriety, looked both pleased and surprised to see somebody in her library. She was delighted to lead us to the maps and show us the exact extent of Greg’s ranch. It was a full one thousand three-hundred hectares of land. It stretched four miles east to west from Gold Hill to well beyond Sly and Coy’s house, where Lefthand Canyon Drive turned north. In the south, it was bordered by Four Mile Canyon Drive, giving it a mile’s depth in the west and two miles in the east.

“Three generations of Carsons built up that ranch.” She said it with all the vicarious pride of one who longed to be a Carson. “Good folk,” she added, for good measure, in case we’d missed it.

I offered her the smile of an impressed tourist. “And is there likely to be a fourth generation of Carsons, Polly?”

She simpered. “Well, so far he ain’t married, and there doesn’t seem to be anybody on the horizon.”

I winked. “Maybe he’s waiting for a pretty librarian.”

She went scarlet with pleasure and hurried back to her desk. We looked at the map. Sly and Coy’s house was clearly marked as part of the Carson Property, with a good mile of wilderness to the back and to the west, and three miles of mixed pasture land and pine woods to the east. A little over a mile to the north was the Shack.

“Let’s see if we can rent a truck somewhere, take a trip down to Four Mile Canyon Drive, and walk up. Two