Kansas Troubles Read Online Free Page A

rearview mirror, then let out a delighted laugh when a police siren screamed behind us.
    “I told you it was only a matter of time,” I said, glancing at the speedometer.
    As usual, Gabe had been driving twenty miles over the speed limit. He always bragged about never getting a speeding ticket. Because he’d carried a police officer’s badge since he was twenty-two, and knowing the brotherhood among cops, I didn’t find that particularly remarkable and told him so. Often.
    We pulled to the side of the highway, and a young officer with tanned Popeye forearms and mirrored aviator sunglasses walked up to Gabe’s open window. “It’s a joke,” Gabe said in a low voice. “Dewey’s behind it.”
    “Driver’s license and registration, please.” The young man’s voice was deep and polite.
    Gabe handed him the information and waited, an amused half-smile on his face. The officer took the papers and walked back to his white and blue patrol car. After a few minutes, he came back and returned them to Gabe. He tore a ticket from his pad and passed it through the open window. “I clocked you at twenty-one miles over the speed limit, sir. This is a real pretty little Camaro, and I know these sporty cars can sometimes get away from you, but try and take it a little slower. We’d like you to enjoy your stay in Kansas without hurting yourself or someone else. Have a nice day.” He flipped his ticket book shut and strode back to his car.
    “This is a real citation,” Gabe sputtered. “That low-down son of a gun.” I leaned over, looked at it, and laughed.
    “It is,” I said gleefully. “I can’t believe it. Your first hour in Kansas, and you already have a criminal record.”
    “It has to be a joke,” Gabe said. He looked in the rearview mirror and grinned. “He’s coming back. Okay, Dewey, you really had me going there.”
    “Excuse me, Chief Ortiz,” the young officer said. “I have a message from Detective Champagne.”
    “Yes?” Gabe prompted, holding out the ticket.
    “He said to tell you that no one keeps their ch—” He glanced over at me and blushed. “Pardon me, ma’am. Uh . . . no one stays a virgin forever.”
    I giggled. Gabe growled at the officer’s retreating back, then pointed a finger at me. “One more sound out of you, and you walk the rest of the way.”
    I held up my hands in protest. “Hey, this is between you and your buddy. I’m just an innocent passenger.”
    “He’s going to pay for this,” Gabe grumbled. I judiciously turned my head and smiled out the window.
    In the next few minutes, we entered Derby. Gabe pointed to a busy Taco Bell on our left. “That’s where my dad’s garage was. Back then, it was the edge of town. There was nothing but wheat fields and a few houses until Wichita.” He sighed deeply and nodded at the McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Hardee’s, Blockbuster Video, and Braum’s Ice Cream that had mushroomed insidiously near the city limits sign. “I hate seeing this. It’s not the town I grew up in. It could be anyplace now.”
    Once past fast food row, the original Derby, with the muddy Arkansas River bordering the town to the west, had wide, clean streets that showcased many small independent businesses that had withstood the assault of the encroaching corporate food and retail giants. Gabe’s face softened when we drove past the old Derby Cinema tucked into a strip mall called El Paso Village.
    He let out a small grunt of annoyance as we passed the red brick building that housed the Derby Emergency Medical Service and the police department. Atop the square, neat building, an American flag and a blue and gold Kansas state flag whiffled in the brisk breeze.
    As we drove through the center of town, Gabe pointed out landmarks. Next to the police station stood an abandoned brick building with the inscription “El Paso Water Company” over the door. “El Paso was the town’s original name,” he told me.
    “El Paso? As in