Chapter Forty-seven
Chief Driver visited Jack the next afternoon with an update.
“Hi there, Mayor. I’ve got some good news for you.
One of your unwelcome visitors last night was facing a jail sentence for a third felony charge, and he blabbered like a granny high on marijuana.
Gave up the names of his bosses – the men who wanted to intimidate you to take up where Lotborn left off. ”
“That’s good news, Chief.”
“Uh huh! You look like a man who took a few punches last night, but you won’t have to worry about getting broadsided again.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear it.” Jack touched the abrasion on his cheek that Mia had fussed over the night before.
“You must have some crazy skills, man. Taking on those two; both goons who’ve been around the block and back I’d wager.”
“Guess my military training kicked in.” Jack grinned, but he’d secretly wondered how he’d managed to do that very thing. One of the punches he took must have rattled his memory because it was all a blur.
“I’m glad we installed the button. Once we knew the crew Lotborn hung around with, it seemed like a sensible decision.”
“Turns out, you were right. You said one of the guys gave up his boss?”
“Yep. Seems we’re looking at a few other crimes for this bigshot. Do you know Larry Notting? He’s one of the bosses facing jail time. He ordered the hit on Lotborn. By the way, we’re still searching for his body.”
“I told you what the skinny attacker said about that.”
“Yep. He’s ratting on his sidekick. He’s lawyered up and making deals. We’ll find the body eventually.”
“Wasn’t there more than one involved with Lotborn? I got the feeling there were at least two players if not more involved.”
“Right. The others have decided to sell out and go back East.”
“Seriously? Thanks, Chief. That is good news.”
“You know, Jack. Christmas is just around the corner. I’m thinking what hasn’t been done here in the office can most likely wait until the new year. It’s holiday time. Go be with the family.”
Jack slammed the files in front of him on top of a pile to the side. He opened his desk drawer and slid all the pens and other random paraphernalia he’d used inside, and then closed it with a snap.
Standing, he took his jacket from the back of his chair and grinned. “You’re right. It can wait. I’ve got a bunch of chores lined up, so I’ll be saying Merry Christmas. Drop by Angie’s Christmas Eve gala, Stan.”
“I’ll be there, along with half the town.”