Shot to Death
Stephen D. Rogers
ISBN 978-0-9825899-0-8
Publication date: February 15, 2010
APPEARANCES TO THE CONTRARY
You could learn a lot about a community by analyzing how they dealt with their trash.
I'd been following this town dump truck all morning and was impressed by the number of public trash receptacles strewn across the pier, playgrounds, and parks. The town seemed committed to keeping the trash off the street.
Twice the truck had returned to municipal maintenance to drop off its load.
Twice the truck had been joined by a green SUV, the maintenance supervisor stopping to chat with the two guys in the dump truck: Jack Tobey and the other guy.
The other guy drove.
Jack lifted the plastic bags from the metal receptacles and swung them into the back of the truck. Unfolded empty bags into the receptacles and tied a knot to hold them in place. Jack was the younger of the pair, his green jumpsuit crisper.
Chasing empty coffee cups as they skittered in the breeze coming off the Atlantic, Jack didn't look one bit a pornographer.
Of course, I didn't look like a private investigator, or so I hoped. That was the funny thing about appearances. However much of the time they were all we had to go on, they didn't always amount to much.
My client certainly believed Jack to be a pornographer, and that wasn't something often mistaken for something else.
Putting the image of my client sobbing out of my mind, I followed the trash truck into a strip mall and watched Jack and his partner saunter into the Cape Coddage. Clams. Lunch Specials. Ice Cold Drinks.
Seemed like as good a time to eat as any.
Jack and the other guy sat at a corner table under a large map of the Cape. Neither of them looked at me, which either meant they hadn't noticed my surveillance, or nothing at all.
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