by Rod Collins
He spotted a man wearing a dark hoodie watching him from the window of a McDonald’s across the street. Don’t know him. Why’s he staring at me?
Restless and edgy, Cletus jumped at the sound of squealing brakes. A Tri-Met bus was making a quick stop two blocks up the street. He looked back at McDonald’s in time to see the watcher head for the front door. When the man reached the sidewalk, Cletus saw him look for a break in the traffic.
Hands in his sweatshirt pockets, the tall bearded black man skipped off the curb and started across the busy street in the direction of the bus stop. When he was halfway across, the man hollered, “Hey, boy. You Cletus?”
That was enough to push Cletus from wary to panic. He jumped up off the bench and ran as hard as he could up the sidewalk, running parallel to the street. He looked back in time to see the man pull a silver pistol from the belly pocket of his sweatshirt…
Books by Rod Collins
Sheriff Bud Blair Mystery Series
- Spider Silk
- Stone Fly
- Bloodstone
- Mariah’s Song
Bitter’s Run Series
- Bitter’s Run
- Abiqua (in progress)
Nonfiction
- What Do You Do When You Get There?
NOT BEFORE MIDNIGHT
A Sheriff Bud Blair Novel
By Rod Collins
“A ship in harbor is safe,
but that’s not what ships are made for.”
John A. Shedd
Dedicated to Benny Nork
- A truer friend never lived -
Not Before Midnight Copyright © 2017 by Rod Collins. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Zachariah Sturgill
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Written by Rod Collins
Visit my website at brightworkspress.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: October 2017
Bright Works Press ISBN- 9781973190509
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: What You Wish For
Chapter 2: Cletus
Chapter 3: The Watcher
Chapter 4: Nancy Sixkiller
Chapter 5: Fussed
Chapter 6: Dutch
Chapter 7: Newcomers
Chapter 8: Molly
Chapter 9: Rescue
Chapter 10: The Gathering Storm
Chapter 11: Homeward
Chapter 12: Miranda Wright
Chapter 13: Safe Harbor
Chapter 14: Bad News
Chapter 15: Dog Lake
Chapter 16: Warning Bells
Chapter 17: To Work
Chapter 18: One Blind Mole
Chapter 19: Loved and Lost
Chapter 20: From Beginning to End
Chapter 21: Forest Park
Chapter 22: A Moving Target
Chapter 23: Listeners
Chapter 24: The Devil in the Details
Chapter 25: Confession
Chapter 26: Big News
Chapter 27: Human Trafficking
Chapter 28: To Err is Human
Chapter 29: Of Mice and Men
Chapter 30: All Hands
Chapter 31: Contrition
Chapter 32: When Things Go Awry
Chapter 33: Round Up
Chapter 34: Major Crimes Unit
Chapter 35: Hunters
Chapter 36: Run
Chapter 37: Acrimony
Chapter 38: Road Kill and Turkey
Chapter 39: Starbucks
Chapter 40: A New Winslow
Chapter 41: Cleaning House
Chapter 42: Push Back
Chapter 43: Turf Wars
Chapter 44: Scout
Chapter 45: Trust
Chapter 46: Busted
Chapter 47: Rescued
Chapter 48: Debrief
Chapter 49: Dog Lake
Chapter 50: Bandits
Chapter 51: Booker
Chapter 52: Butler’s Revenge
Chapter 53: Setting the Trap
Chapter 54: The Waterfront
Chapter 55: Posse
Chapter 56: Busted
Chapter 57: Flight
Chapter 58: Texas Style
Chapter 59: Bull Run
Chapter 60: Roundup
Chapter 61: Come and Get ‘Em
Chapter 62: Crossing the Bar
Chapter 63: Left and Right
Chapter 64: East to West
Chapter 65: Time and Angst
Chapter 66: Miranda Blushed
Chapter 67: Finding A Good Butler
Chapter 68: Transfer
Chapter 69: Tracks on the Water
Chapter 70: Song of the Road
Chapter 71: Mountain Point
Chapter 72: Summoned
Chapter 73: Shooter
Chapter 74: Basma
Chapter 75: Exodus and Chaos
Chapter 76: The World Watches
Chapter 77: Go Forth and Prosper
Chapter 78: Stone-Cold
Chapter 79: Consequences
Chapter 80: Dog Lake
Chapter 81: Ketchikan
Chapter 82: Sunrise
Chapter 83: Campaign
Chapter 84: Grand Jury and Return
Chapter 85: Debate
Chapter 86: Aftermath
Chapter 1
What You Wish For
A GRAY WATERPROOF Carhart sweatshirt kept the spring chill at bay as Dell BeBe, retired detective, Portland Police Bureau, eased his canoe in against a bed of water lilies near the east shore of Dog Lake. He flipped a four-inch black plastic worm, rigged Texas style, into an open hole in the lily pads, watched the worm sink, and then counted to three before setting the hook on a bass that picked up the bait.
“There we go!” He lifted the limber bass rod as high as he could, trying to force the fish away from the tangle of water lilies. And then his cell phone started buzzing…
“Not now,” he grumbled.
As the fish tired he worked it closer and lifted it into the boat. “You’re not as big as I thought. I swear I caught you yesterday.” He released the little bass and sighed. “Enough of this.”
His cell phone buzzed again, and he pulled it from his shirt pocket. I’ve got to remember to turn this thing off when I’m fishing. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but he answered anyway.
“This is Dell BeBe.”
He heard Cletus Falls say, “You ever answer your phone?”
“Not when I’m fishing,” BB growled. “Is that you Cletus? I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Once upon a time I was Cletus, but the way things be here in the big city of Portland, I may have to change my name. Word on the street is some radical Muslim dudes is coming after your friend Reverend Wildish. They seem to think he ratted them out to the FBI and help set up that big raid on their mosque last year.
“And the snitch that told the reverend? The guy with all the nice pitchers of those AK’s in the basement of the mosque? He’s dead. Hit and run. My friends in the FBI tell me it weren’t no accident. They say he was tortured before they tosse
d him in front of a city bus.
“The reverend don’t want to use his phone, so he asked me to call … tell you he be down later today.”
“Down here?”
“I told him to leave town while the FBI sorts this business out and makes some arrests … if they ever do. He don’t have no place else to run to … no safe place. I don’t think they know you be friends.”
His heart rate increasing with each deep breath, BB said, “They might. Wildish and I got arrested for some minor vandalism once … back in middle school. Juvie records are supposedly expunged, but I guess we’ll see. I also emailed him several photos of my new house. I hope they don’t find those.”
BB paused and then added, “Thanks, Cletus. You watch your back. Those are evil men. Kill you just for fun.”
“I will. Word is that some of them be black dudes who joined up with Islam. And there’s one more thing, the reverend don’t have no money or car. He don’t even have a credit card. So, I rented him some wheels and loaned him five hundred. I expects you to be good for it.”
“You sure it was five hundred? You didn’t add in a little interest on top?”
“You ask him yourself when he get there. I be straight.”
“I will, Cletus. Now what are you going to do? Maybe you should come down here and help me catch some fish, stay away from Portland for a while.”
“I don’t like it out past the burbs. Too dangerous.”
BB shook his head, knowing that – for Cletus – being more than five or six miles from downtown Portland was uncomfortable. It was foreign turf.
“Well, tell your mama hello, Cletus. This number work if I need to call you?”
“No. Use my old number. This is a junk phone … and I’ve been on line way too long. Good bye, Mister BeBe.”
BB listened to dead air, and then ended the call. He shook his head and picked up his paddle. Not good, he thought. He powered the canoe back across Dog Lake, the memory of the first time he met Cletus still bright and clear in his mind…
Chapter 2
Cletus
IN TROUBLE … AGAIN … because he was the subject of an article in the Oregonian about “Detective Dell BeBe of the Portland Police Bureau” and “police brutality,” undeserved in BB’s opinion. The Captain pulled BB off a homicide investigation and assigned him to look into a complaint about an outlaw vendor at the Rose Garden. The complaint said this vendor was selling cheap knockoff Blazer gear.
Big deal, a cynical BB thought.
He found the seller set up near the entrance to the home of the Portland Trailblazers. Wearing low rider, sag-around-his-butt baggy jeans and new Nikes, a small teenager, whose ancestry appeared to be a mix of Asian and black, was hawking counterfeit Blazer gear from a folding card table.
The stand held stacks of sweatshirts, numbered jerseys for fans partial to an individual player, caps, banners, and one legitimate autographed jersey with the number 22 dating back to the Clyde Drexler era – that one with a “Silent Auction” tag.
When BB walked up behind the sixty-five-inch Cletus and put a big hand on his shoulder, Cletus started and turned to look up at him.
“Who you?”
BB chuckled. “Why bro, if this was a bad movie I’d say I was your worst nightmare. But this isn’t a movie, so I’ll let that pass.” He flipped his badge wallet open, then slipped it back into his pocket.
Cletus just stared at him, then said, “Let me see that again.”
BB sighed, but held out the badge again. Cletus studied the badge at length and asked, “What for is a big-city detective rousting an honest businessman?”
BB shrugged. “Good question, but I still need to see your license.”
“Don’t need one.”
BB sighed. “Not true. The city says you do.”
Cletus turned serious, “If you let me go, I’ll tell you something a lot hotter than an unlicensed vendor.”
BB looked skeptical, but took the bait, “What you got, Bro?”
“See that tall black dude with the white chick on his arm? He be the pimp and she be the trick. And that ain’t all they do. He be a big-time blackmailer. Gets the John into a room, let’s the girl do the trick, and takes pitchers. Then shakes the John down for lots of cash money.
“Right now, they be prospectin’ the crowd, looking for an out-of-towner willing to play around a little.”
BB stared hard at Cletus before deciding he was telling the truth. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a roll of cash, and slipped a fifty-dollar bill into Cletus’ hand.
“What’s your name, boy? And don’t give me no shuck and jive bullshit. I want a cell number and an address. Otherwise I’ll take you downtown.”
Cletus hesitated, but he complied. BB thumbed the number into his cell, hit Send, then listened to the phone in Cletus’ pocket start playing a musical jingle.
“Okay. Gather your stuff and split. I don’t want to see you here again.”
“For another fifty, I got more information you might like.”
BB used his cell phone to take a picture of the man and woman, and when Cletus laughed, he gently kicked him on the rump. A full sixty seconds ticked off the clock before Cletus had his folding table in one hand and a battered suitcase full of cheap imitation Blazer gear in the other.
BB shook his head and stared as Cletus swaggered around the corner and out of sight. He resisted the temptation to follow and see if Cletus had simply moved around the block and set his table up again.
“You need a daddy,” BB growled.
When he shared the tip with an old friend who worked vice, he discovered Cletus had already sold that information … twice. BB just grinned, knowing he’d found a new snitch.
All of which led to a growing friendship between Detective Dell BeBe and the teenager Cletus, who dealt in street information as well as bootleg knockoff Blazer gear. Cletus worked pro bono as a snitch for BB, giving the big detective useful street info in exchange for an occasional dinner … and for not arresting him in the first place. Cletus endured BB’s nagging and finally applied to be a licensed vendor. It wasn’t much longer before he passed his GED.
But Cletus wouldn’t give up the business of selling information to members of the Portland Police Bureau, Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office, DEA, FBI, ICE, and whoever else would buy. His specialty was selling the same information to different people in each agency.
“Gots to pay for my education somehow,” he’d say every time BB chided him for his scams.
In truth, BB thought of Cletus as a foster son, and he was pleased when Cletus announced that he, Cletus Falls, had graduated from Portland Community College with a 4.0 GPA in business administration … and was now enrolled at Portland State University. “Gonna get me a bachelor’s degree.”
BB eyed him and when it was obvious Cletus wasn’t going to say anything more, asked, “What are you going to major in?”
Cletus grinned, spread his arms expansively and said, “Well, my man, here’s the plan. First, I get a degree in criminology. I’m already sort of specialized that way, if you know what I mean.
Then, I get a job as a big-city detective. Have to take a cut in pay when I do that, but at least I won’t have some bad-ass cop peeking over my shoulder all the time.”
BB was startled. It had never occurred to him Cletus would ever do anything but hustle. BB shook his head, tried to say something, and finally settled for reaching across the table to offer his hand. Finding his voice, he said, “Way to go, Cletus. Way to go!”
Cletus looked smug. It was the first time he had surprised his closest and best friend. “Yeah,” he said, “but you ain’t heard all of it. And then, after I rid the city of all the bad guys, I’m gonna go to law school. Be a big-time lawyer.”
BB grinned and asked, “What does your mama think about all this?”
“She be proud of me. She says to tell Mr. BeBe he’s a good man. Been a good father to Cletus.” He stopped because he was afraid he would start blubbe
ring, and that would not do, not for a hustler like Cletus Falls.
