Dead Shot (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 1)

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Cal's breakfast in his frantic rush to get to the office ended up being two untoasted pop tarts and a cup of coffee. It was hardly the breakfast of champions, but most definitely a staple for reporters. By lunchtime, Cal needed something more substantial. He needed brain food. He needed Ray-Ray's.

Ray-Ray's was the best - and only - barbecue joint in all of Brooks County. Prior to Ray-Ray's, the only barbecue to be found there was the processed kind found in the refrigerated section of a grocery store. But six months ago, brothers William and Burt Ray from Arkansas relocated to Statenville and opened up one of the best barbecue restaurants in the state. Within three months, Ray-Ray's word-of-mouth reputation was so strong that a food critic from the Boise newspaper made the two-and-a-half hour drive to Statenville resulting in a glowing review. After that, Ray-Ray's needed no more help in attracting customers.

Cal and Kelly inhaled the smell of a hickory wood grill and spicy barbecue sauce as they opened the restaurant door. Nothing could change Cal's mood like the aroma of barbecue, nothing other than eating it, that is. They both placed their order and then found a table outside to reduce the number of nosy ears.

"So, Kelly, who do you think is behind all of this?" asked Cal, who, after one bite of ribs, had already managed to get a thick stream of barbecue sauce oozing down the center of his chin.

"Well, I don't know if someone left it on my desk as a hint or if it's just by pure coincidence, but when I sat down at my desk, I had a paper folded to this headline."

Kelly pulled a two-week old copy of The Register out of her purse. It was folded so that only one headline was showing.

"Boise Developer, City Clash"

Cal kept eating as he scanned the article written by Guy two weeks ago; an article he missed while covering the end of the summer city softball league tournament. The article painted the scene of Statenville's contentious city council meeting over the re-zoning of a particular property owned by Boise developer, BCH Homes. It was currently zoned as agricultural land, but BCH wanted to build a 100-home subdivision to accommodate the city's growth. There was rumor that a new pulpwood plant was going to be relocating to Statenville within the next 18 months - and BCH saw this as an opportunity to build plenty of new homes. The article quoted a handful of local men and women upset about the potential re-zoning and what it would do to their property values. Standard reporting.

Cal didn't see the connection to the three dead teens.

"I'm not sure I get it," Cal answered after re-reading the article.

"Let me help you out, Einstein." Kelly took the paper from Cal and circled three names with a pen: Murray, Reid, and Gold. The three last names of the teens who were now dead. She handed the paper back to Cal. "Now, do you get it?"

"Well, there's at least two other people quoted in the article and nobody in their family died. Besides, do you really think that a developer would hire someone to kill the sons of three people who spoke out at a meeting? If you're that sinister, why not put the squeeze on the commissioners themselves?"

Kelly went on a mini-tirade that reminded Cal of her Uncle Joe.

"Look, we've got nothing right now, but this is as plausible as anything - and you just want to dismiss it like it's nothing and that people aren't really that evil? Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Outsider. You have no idea the havoc outside development has wreaked on this town! I will be shocked if this isn't who's behind all this."

Cal motioned for Kelly to settle down, nearing embarrassment at the scene she was causing. He sucked the barbecue sauce off every finger, using the stall tactic as an opportunity to carefully choose his response.

He leaned across the table and spoke in a low, calm voice in hopes of tempering Kelly's excitement.

"Look, I know I don't know all of Statenville's past history, but you're not thinking with your head - you're thinking with your heart. Past experience doesn't always dictate future actions. However, if you want to warn those people quoted in the story, I'm fine with that."

Kelly looked down and shook her head as she cooled off.

"All I'm saying, Cal, is that's the least we can do. If they are next and we don't say anything, we might both regret it. And that's not something I want to live with."

"OK, let's make some calls."

The two crammed down the remaining ribs and French fries and headed back to the newsroom.

***

Neither Cal nor Kelly noticed the black Ford F-250 parked at the end of the block.

As Kelly turned onto the road and headed back to the office, the black truck eased onto the road behind her.