Voodoo Daddy (A Virgil Jones Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

answered—which really, I think, amounts to nothing more than asking for stuff —and then God, in His wisdom, will either grant your request or not. The whole concept seems kind of selfish. A little too…..feel good. Like comfort food. The idea that a group of people get together once or twice a week and listen while someone stands on the stage and waves a book at them and tells them how to live their lives seems all very…..republican. Like it doesn’t matter if you wave the book or wave the flag, in the end it is all very much the same. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.
    So. I am a believer of something. What that something might be is just a little hard to pin down. But truth be told, believer or not, over the last eight minutes since I’d heard Sandy on the radio, I was talking to someone, asking…okay, praying, that she wasn’t hurt.
    When I finally rolled up to the scene and saw her working on Barney Burns, saw her physically okay, I felt like my prayers had been answered.
    And isn’t that, I thought, just a kick in the nut sack of belief.
     
    * * *
     
    I slid my truck to a stop at the south intersection, almost a half block away. It was as close as I could get. It looked like every cop car in the city had converged on the Governor’s mansion. I flashed my ID to the city cop and ran through. Sandy had moved over and sat down on the curb across the street from the trooper, her head down, her hands in her hair. I didn’t know who had the overnight duty so I didn’t know who the trooper was, but even as I ran, I could tell it wasn’t good. I detoured around the other cops already on scene and walked over to victim who lay at the end of the driveway. There was a pool of blood under the man’s head, and two entry wounds to his chest. Gone. I looked up and saw two news helicopters circling overhead, and when I crossed the street I saw the fallen Trooper was Barney Burns. That made something click in my chest with an instant heaviness. Barney had been my training officer when I joined the State Police.
    I walked over to Sandy and squatted in front of her and saw the blood on her shirt and in her hair. “Jesus, Sandy, are you hurt? Are you hit?”
    Sandy shook her head, then leaned into me, her arms around my neck. I felt her shake and sob into my chest. “I’m…I’m all right. Not hit.” She pulled back and rubbed her eyes, then started to try to wipe the blood out of her hair. “It’s Barney’s blood. It’s in my hair. I was trying…I was trying to do CPR.”
    I looked at her and for a moment just wanted to scoop her up and take her home. Get her cleaned up. Wanted to take care of her. She was covered in blood. It was in her hair, on her shirt, her hands, her face. I tried to wipe some of it from her cheek, but it was useless. I turned toward the EMTs on the scene and motioned them over, then turned back to Sandy. “Where’s the Governor, Sandy?”
    She didn’t answer right away and I had to ask her again. She pulled her hair away from her face streaking it with more blood in the process. “He’s, uh, still inside, I guess. Hasn’t left yet.”
    “Stay here. Do not move. Understand?”
    She nodded and I went over and grabbed one of the city cops. I looked at his name tag: Cauliffer. “Officer Cauliffer, my name is Detective Virgil Jones, with the State Police.”
    “Yeah,” Cauliffer said. I know who you are. “You’re the guy—“
    I cut him off. “Listen, Cauliffer, go secure the Governor. He’s inside his house. Keep him there.”
    Cauliffer let his face form a question. “Sir?”
    “Go, Cauliffer. Keep the Governor inside. Stay right by his side. I don’t care what he’s doing, you stay right with him. If he’s in there taking his morning dump, I want you standing ready with a roll of toilet paper. You got me?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. Go. Now.”
    Cauliffer took off toward the Governor’s mansion and I went back to Sandy. “What the hell happened?” Then before