Bicycle Shop Murder by Robert Burton Robinson (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📖

his mind wandered—chased rabbits. And sometimes the chase went on so long he couldn’t even remember where it began.

As long as the men were not ogling her, he could try to ignore them. Cynthia had apparently already learned to do just that. Through years of practice, no doubt.

They sipped coffee, and inhaled the aroma of bacon and pancakes, while waiting for their breakfast. There were four police officers devouring a full table of food, just three booths away. They had watched Cynthia as she passed by—but not in such a way that they thought she might be a fugitive. Just another group of beauty beholders, Greg thought.

“Buford was not the only one acting funny,” Cynthia said softly. “When his secretary took us into his office, he was understandably surprised that we were not old friends. But she seemed confused by his reaction.”

“Really? I didn’t see that.”

“You were looking at Buford.”

“So, what do you think that meant?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but now I’m wondering if it meant he had already told her he knew who we were.”

“But why would it matter?”

“Think about it. We said we were from Coreyville, so he knew that much. But why would he think it was us? Unless he really is involved in the murders.”

“Yeah. If he knows about everything that’s been happening in Coreyville, then he would know about us. But why would we be coming to see him?”

Cynthia said, “Let’s just assume for now that he’s responsible for all of the murders. I doubt he personally murdered anybody. So, he must have hired someone to do it.”

“A hit man.”

“I guess. But we still don’t know why he would have wanted those people dead.”

“True. But let’s skip that part for now and assume he has some reason. One thing we know is that all of the victims were involved in the murder trial. Troy was a juror. Dorothy was Sam’s widow. And Arabeth Albertson was the sole witness. I believe she was also murdered. The police said it was an accident—that she was old and weak, and just fell down the stairs. But I think somebody tripped her.”

“Well, it does seem like Buford wanted the defendant to go free. Troy was pushing the jury toward a guilty verdict—”

“—and I was trying to stop him—without much luck. Now I realize that I was just a pawn. Buford was playing me.”

“Me too. And Mrs. Albertson was testifying against the defendant.”

“And Dorothy Spokane called to tell me that Buford was the cause of it all. Although—I don’t know how he knew she was about to tell somebody. But now Buford knows that the person she called was me. Or maybe he already knew.”

“Either way, you and I will probably be his next targets.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. Maybe going to see Buford wasn’t such a good idea.”

“No—you were just trying to do the right thing, Greg. But we probably are in danger. Maybe we should go to the D.A. and get police protection.”

“Only thing is—I’m not sure the Coreyville police can really protect us. But maybe that’s our only option.”

“The killer might be following us right now.” They both looked around the restaurant, studying each customer, wondering what a hit man might look like.

“We should go home a different way. Most people traveling from Dallas to Coreyville would take I-20 to Longview, and then go up FM-2208. But it would just be too easy to spot my big red convertible on the interstate. So, let’s take Highway 80 instead, and then maybe we’ll even take a smaller highway after we’re on 80 for a while. We don’t want to make it easy for the killer to find us.”

Greg heard something buzzing. Cynthia noticed it too. She reached into her purse, and retrieved her vibrating phone. She flipped it open, but didn’t answer it. “This is not good. I recognize the number. It’s the district attorney’s office.

*

Stealing the Silverado had been a piece of cake. But John X knew he was taking a chance. His new ride might be reported stolen before he could even get out of Dallas. But taking chances was what made the game fun.

He knew the exact location of his prey. They were currently stationary. So, he pulled into a McDonalds, got a #4 breakfast meal with a two large coffees—one to go with breakfast, one for the chase. Ah, adrenaline and coffee—what a combo. He parked to eat his meal and wait for them to start moving again.

John X really wanted the extra $10,000 Buford would pay for accidental deaths. But even more than the money, he liked the challenge. He had never done an accident. Most of his hits had been with a gun. He had murdered a family via arson one time. But his employer had not stipulated that it look like an accident.

So, what were the possibilities? If he raced up behind Greg’s car and clipped the left end of his bumper at just the right speed and angle, maybe he could cause the Bonneville to turn sideways and then flip. Greg and Cynthia would be in big trouble if that convertible started rolling down the highway. Seatbelts would be of little help when their heads hit the pavement. But the Bonneville weighed over 4,000 pounds, and had a low center of gravity. He wasn’t sure he could make it flip.

He could wait until they were on a two-lane highway, drive up beside them on the shoulder, and force their car into the oncoming traffic—preferably an 18-wheeler. That would probably do it.

But if they took Interstate 20, he wouldn’t have a chance to do that until they were close to home. He didn’t want to do it that late into the trip. Once they got back home, they would probably separate. That would mean two more hits in Coreyville. And considering that the local police were already on the lookout for a killer, he thought it wise to stay away from there if possible.

He decided to follow them for a while and wait for an opportunity.