Previously: Fortunately, he hadn’t used his issue Glock .40 caliber pistol, but his personal Colt .45. That pistol was registered nowhere—he’d confiscated it from a drug-runner—a drug-runner he’d summarily executed with his own gun.
He knew how to sanitize the gun of all fingerprints and DNA. He would do that somewhere away from the cabin. Stepping carefully around Kiwi’s body, he went to his car just as the rain began to fall.
Sometimes the weather cooperates. This rain, along with the hard gravel of the parking area and driveway, would obliterate his car’s tracks.
He was smiling as he turned back on Historic Highway 61.
Adventure Nine—Silverthorn’s—Episode Eight…Collie had been walking along the bluff overlooking the Port of Danger Bay when the rain came and she quickly made her way back to the cabin—where she discovered Kiwi on the porch.
The heavy rain had washed away most of the blood—but Collie knew instantly her long-time friend was dead. The wound on her chest was too close to the heart.
Collie looked skyward and said, “O Great Ojibwe Warriors: Make way for Kiwidinock, Wife, Mother—and Warrior!”
And she cried.
With everyone gone into the past Collie was alone—a kind of alone she’d not felt before, “Get it together, girl!”
She reached for her smartphone—she didn’t know what to say. At her age she had to have made similar calls—but still…
Finally, she selected Hiram, Sr. from “contacts” and pressed the icon.
Meanwhile—At Silverthorn’s Café… Hiram was surprised to see Med Farkleberry minding the café, “Where’s Kiwi?”
“Kiwi is visiting Collie, Hiram,” Lar Farkleberry replied, “That’s why I’m lookin’ after th’place.”
Hiram jumped as his phone vibrated before it rang.
“I really gotta eliminate that vibrate—it always makes me jump,” Hiram said to Lar as he pulled the phone from his pocket, “This is Hiram…”
“Oh HIRAM!” Collie interrupted, crying, “Kiwi—Kiwi—Kiwi has been shot! She’s—she’s—she didn’t survive, Hiram. I am so sorry!”
Hiram dropped the phone—his face blank.
“What is it?” Farkleberry asked, dropping his fine-tuned hayseed speech, “Hiram! Talk to me!”
“It’s Kiwi,” Hiram’s face ashen, “She’s dead, Lar—My wife of fifty years is dead!”
“She was murdered—shot. That was Collie McIntyre on the phone.”
“What can I do?” A teary-eyed Lar asked.
“Get the boys and notify all the law enforcement agencies, Lar—I’m going to my wife!”
To be continued…