The Blight Way; A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery

by Patrick F. McManus

• ISBN13: 9780743280471
• ISBN10: 0743280474
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2006-02-21
• Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Summary

Bo Tully, sheriff of Blight county, Idaho -- and a fellow who dropped twenty pounds on Atkins -- had been thinking about asking out Jan Whittle, his grade-school sweetheart. Problem is, he's already promised to celebrate his dad's se

Excerpts

Chapter One After happily noting that the mud puddles of the parking lot had frozen over during the night, Blight County Sheriff Bo Tully momentarily regretted having established the departmental policy that neither he nor any of his deputies could use obscenities while on duty. Otherwise, he would have uttered a four-letter one at the sight of Jan Whittle. She was frowning at him from the back doorway of the courthouse, hands on hips. Tully decided that his stomping a few puddles on the way into the courthouse would not please Jan Whittle. Stomping frozen mud puddles was one of his great satisfactions. He pulled his Explorer into the sheriff's reserved parking spot and got out. Jan rushed him the second his feet hit the ground. "About time you showed up," she snapped. "I'm almost late for school." She was principal of Delmore Blight Grade School. Tall and thin, with rather sharp features, Jan seemed to be a person in a permanent rush. "Sorry," he said. "If I'd known you were waiting for me, I'd have gotten here earlier." "Oh, sure," she said. "Listen, I want you to go after that Cliff boy right now. He's been off in the Hoodoo Mountains for six weeks!" Jan had the annoying habit of focusing her entire attention on the person under interrogation, probably something she had learned in her years as a teacher. "No way," Tully said. "I chased that brat all over two mountain ranges last year, and I'm not doing it again. Besides, it'll snow up there soon. He'll get sick of that quick enough." "He'll get sick of that! Glen is only twelve years old!" The boy, Glen Cliff, simply didn't like school. To his credit, he would try it for a couple weeks each September, see that he didn't like it any better than the year before, then take off for the mountains. Bo Tully hadn't been much different himself, as far as school was concerned. "Listen, Jan, I'll see what I can do. I've got murders to solve and stuff like that, but if I get a break in my schedule, I'll go up and have a look for the kid, okay?" "Murders to solve! Don't make me laugh!" Jan Whittle didn't seem to be in much danger of laughing. She spun on her heel and stomped over to her car, smashing the ice on several puddles as she went. She needed to work on her technique some, Tully mused, no doubt about that. Tully wondered if she remembered that when they were both in sixth grade she had been his girlfriend for a while. It was possible, he supposed, that she hadn't realized she was his girlfriend, since they had never even talked. But that's how love affairs in sixth grade had been back then. Her dark brown hair had streaks of gray in it now, but she had aged nicely, keeping herself trim and fit. Too bad she was still married to Darrel Whittle, the oaf of a city attorney. Otherwise, he wouldn't mind dating her again. Maybe this time they would even talk. Before entering the courthouse, Tully checked his image in the glass door. He turned to check his side profile. Perfect. Sticking to Atkins for two months had stripped twenty pounds off his six-foot-two frame. Feeling instantly energetic, he ran up the marble stairs that led to the main floor. The Sheriff's Department occupied a large suite of rooms in the rear of the building, with the jail directly beneath. A hallway stretched the length of the building, with a couple dozen watercolors displayed on the walls. For once, Tully approved of the paintings. They were good. Clearly the artist was a person of considerable talent. As he entered the office, he was amazed to see that both the night shift and day shift had managed to leave one medium-dry doughnut on the tray next to the stainless steel coffee pumps. Probably because it had been dropped on the floor. Tully took his Picasso clown mug off its hook and pumped the decaf. It sputtered and fizzed out half a clown's worth. He sipped the lukewarm coffee and mu