by Robert Greer
It hadn’t been difficult for the rifle-toter to gain access to the garage. An easily scaled rickety wooden fence had been the only impediment. It had been simpler still to walk up the garage’s northeast stairwell from ground level to the third floor. The only remaining problem had been the gathering darkness, which would have interfered with the assignment if the rain hadn’t stopped, leaving a picture-perfect twilight.
The spectator watched Shandell and the other man move closer to one another before extracting a pair of form-fitting athletic gloves from a back pocket, dusting them off, slipping them on, kneeling, and reaching for the rifle. The words like ducks in a pond wove their way through the shooter’s head as the barrel of the .30-06 peeked over the wall.
“I’d put that toy away if I were you,” the small man demanded, looking more annoyed than intimidated by the gun in Shandell’s right hand. “Unless of course you intend to use it. And you know what? I don’t think you have the guts.” The man stared at the gun, unfazed.
“Don’t fool yourself,” Shandell said with a sneer. “You’ve chipped away at me long enough. I’m done with your threats and your shakedowns. More important, I don’t give a shit about any more muckraking you got planned. So go fuck yourself!”
“I see.” The man smiled. “Well, it is what it is, Mr. Blackbird. You’re the one who made your bed—time to lie in it. But just for the record, I think you’re making a real bad choice.”
Shandell raised the barrel of the .38 and took point-blank aim at the man’s chest.
The man continued to smile. “You ain’t got the balls.”
Shandell flashed a broad grin. “Watch me.”
A split second later, a loud crack echoed in the background and Shandell’s grin turned into a contorted look of pain as the bullet from the .30-06 penetrated his left temporal bone.
The man in the high-tops barely had time to open his mouth and scream, “What the …” before a second bullet pierced his left eye socket.
Shandell dropped to one knee as the .38 he’d been holding skated across the court. He reached for his head in agony as the man in the high-tops urinated on himself before sprawling dead on the playing surface. As Shandell slumped forward onto the court, gasping for air, gurgling his final breath through a mouth that was filled with blood, the last thing he saw was the center-court stripe. The strip appeared to him to suddenly float above the playing surface on a sea of moist late-summer air before disappearing, just like his killer, into the Mile High City twilight.
Buy Blackbird, Farewell Now!
Acknowledgments
Many people assisted the author during the writing of this book. I would especially like to acknowledge the invaluable assistance of Kathy Woodley and Connie Blanchard, who spent endless hours typing and retyping the manuscript for the recalcitrant, computer-challenged author.
I thank John Dunning for his insight into the tribulations surrounding the construction of the Eisenhower Memorial Tunnel and Jane M. H. Bigelow of the Englewood Public Library for providing historical information about the tunnel’s construction and the purported fatal 1972 air crash of Congressman Hale Boggs.
Corporal Troy A. Edwards of the Denver Police Department provided police procedural information. Any errors in translating that information to the page lie with the author.
Finally, I wish to acknowledge the continuing support of Connie Oehring for her copyediting skills and the support of my editor, Emily Boyd at North Atlantic Books, and the book savvy of associate publisher Mark Ouimet, always ahead of trends.
About the Author
Robert Greer, a native of Columbus, Ohio, spent his formative years in the steel-mill town of Gary, Indiana. He graduated from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, in 1965 with a bachelor’s degree and subsequently earned degrees in dentistry, medicine, and pathology from Howard University and Boston University, as well as a master’s degree in creative writing, also from Boston University. He is a professor at the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center. In addition to authoring the C. J. Floyd Mysteries, Greer founded the High Plains Literary Review, where he serves as editor in chief, and has written medical texts and scientific articles. A longtime resident of Denver, he reviews books for a Denver NPR affiliate and raises cattle on a ranch in Wyoming.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Robert Greer
Cover design by Andy Ross
ISBN: 978-1-5040-4322-9
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