Jack Taggart Mysteries 9-Book Bundle. Don Easton

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Jack Taggart Mysteries 9-Book Bundle - Don Easton A Jack Taggart Mystery

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turn the heat down on his barbecue.

      He looked at Vicki’s bikini-clad body as she tossed a beach ball back to their three children in the pool. Buck was twelve years old and his two sisters, Sarah and Kate, were ten and seven. She still had a fantastic figure. So what’s wrong with me?

      Vicki returned his gaze and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

      “Company?” she asked.

      “Business. Won’t take long,” he answered, gently pushing her away.

      “What’s the matter, Papa Bear?”

      “You know what the matter is.”

      “You’re still brooding about last night? Don’t worry. It really doesn’t bother me.”

      “It bothers me! How could it not bother you? I’m fifty-two, but you, you’re only thirty-four. You’re in your prime.”

      “Hey, you’re still in your prime too. Bet you were just tired. Next time take a Viagra.”

      Damien sighed, then said, “I did. It didn’t work.”

      Wizard drove up the circular driveway to Damien’s estate and parked in front of the four-car garage. Communication antennas and satellite dishes bristled from the roof of the mansion.

      One garage door was open, and Wizard caught a glimpse of a new red Jaguar parked inside. The Satans Wrath’s emblem of a skull with horns grinned from the gas tank of a Harley Davidson motorcycle next to the Jag.

      Wizard smirked to himself as he opened the gate to the back of the mansion. Damien didn’t like being bothered at home. What he had to tell him would piss him off even more.

      The cobblestone path led to the sound of children’s laughter. He spotted Vicki and felt the blood go to his loins. Yes, Damien has it all. For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize that Damien was dead. Vicki was lonely and horny. She wanted him to…

      The barbecue lid closed with a bang. Damien glared at him and abruptly flicked off one burner. He was wearing only trunks. His arms and legs were exceptionally hairy, and his physique caused Wizard to think that he looked like a paunchy old bear. His short hair had noticeably thinned. Does he think he can hold on as national pres? He’s becoming old and weak. The election is only a couple of months away.

      They walked along a manicured garden path while Wizard gave his version of what had happened that afternoon.

      Dark lines formed in the furrows on Damien’s forehead and shadows appeared under his eyes. His response was venomous. “You whacked two kids!” Spittle from his mouth landed on Wizard’s face.

      “Well, actually, Rolly whacked the boy. The Suit told us to do it and —”

      “Since when does the fucking Suit give us orders? You were in charge!”

      “I was in charge, but —”

      “Fucking millions to be made and you pull this stunt!”

      “Damien, you weren’t there. We had no choice. They were mouthy little brats. Knew what was goin’ on and threatened to tell the cops. We had to do ’em. Especially seein’ as they saw The Suit. Besides, nobody knows about it or can connect it with us.”

      “Why the fuck did you have The Suit with you way out there?”

      “He was already up the Valley at a meeting all morning. Rolly was looking for spots for grow operations. It just worked out that way.”

      “Next time, he takes his own wheels to the motel! You do the delivery after he’s there.”

      Wizard nodded that he understood.

      “Where is he now?”

      “Gettin’ his treat at a motel. Rolly will clean that up after. I thought I should come and let you know right away.”

      “Getting his fucking treat? Killing two kids didn’t bother him?”

      “Actually, I think he liked it.”

      “Nobody is to know about this!”

      “Rolly earned his Dirty Dog. I sanctioned it.”

      Damien thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, he gets it, but not a fuckin’ hint to anyone about how he got it!”

      Damien monitored Wizard on camera as he left. His instinct told him that Wizard hadn’t been totally honest. He had to trust his instinct. It got him to where he was. People who lie to me are my enemy.

      “You little shit!” Buck’s voice drifted in through the open patio door.

      “Buck! Don’t speak that way to your sister!”

      “Sorry, Dad.”

      “Don’t ‘sorry’ me. Apologize to her.”

      “Danny!” said Susan, flicking the brim of his stetson with her finger.

      Danny remained at attention but saw Susan as she held Tiffany, bundled up in a cotton blanket, in her other arm.

      “What are you doing here?” asked Danny, as his eyes darted toward the arriving limousines.

      Susan ignored the question and thrust Tiffany into his arms. She awakened and started to bawl loudly.

      “I can’t —”

      “Be careful, she’s still colicky.” Susan handed Danny a baby bottle and walked away as the prime minister’s limousine rolled to a stop.

      The media came alive. The PM stepped out of the limo and smiled broadly at the zeal and laughter of the media, then saw that the cameras were pointed at a policeman who was saluting him with one hand, while holding a baby in his other arm.

      The PM knew a photo opportunity when he saw one. Kissing babies was a classic. He gently took the infant from the policeman’s grasp. The baby immediately quit crying. He smiled with delight and lifted the infant above his head. Picture perfect! The noise from the media drowned out a concerned comment that the policeman made. He brought the baby closer to his face and pursed his lips. It was then that Tiffany chose to vomit.

       chapter four

      It was the first day after the September Labour Day weekend and Danny O’Reilly’s first day as a policeman in Vancouver. He was dressed in a suit and tie. The last-minute decision to have him transferred to Intelligence instead of GIS puzzled him. The reason would soon be clear.

      After a forty-minute wait, he was summoned inside the office of Superintendent Wigmore, who was in command of all the Intelligence units in British Columbia.

      Danny stood at attention for two minutes while Wigmore sat behind his desk in an overstuffed leather chair, flipping through Danny’s file. He wore a tailor-made suit that gave the impression that his shoulders could have belonged to someone who played pro football. His black hair was closely

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