Read Second Chair, A Stan Turner Mystery, Vol.4 Page 1
SECOND CHAIR
A Stan Turner Mystery
Volume 3
by
WILLIAM MANCHEE
Top Publications, Ltd.
Dallas, Texas
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Second Chair
A Stan Turner Mystery
Top Publications, Ltd.
12221 Merit Drive, Suite 950
Dallas, Texas 75251
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2000, 2009
William Manchee
eBook Edition 978-1-935722-33-5
Library edition ISBN:978-1-929976-55-3
Library of Congress No. 2009923598
Paperback edition ISBN: 978-0-9666366-9-7
Library of Congress No. 00-130193
No part of this book may be published or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or information storage and retrieval systems without the express written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events in this novel are fictional and created out of the imagination of the author. Certain real locations and institutions are mentioned, but the characters and events depicted are entirely fictional.
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Prologue
It was the third time for me—the second time in two months. You’d think I was a hardened criminal, a fugitive from the law or something. As I drove toward Sherman and past McKinney, I daydreamed of just driving right on through—into Oklahoma, through Kansas and all the way to Canada. I chuckled. Wouldn’t that give the press something to write about?
Then I took a deep breath trying to muster a little courage. I could get through this. A little jail time is no big deal. No big deal except everybody would be watching as I was taken into custody. My wife, my children, my parents all of the people I love and care about would be watching my humiliation before the entire nation.
As we approached the Sheriff’s office, I could see the big crowd of reporters gathered to watch my surrender. Slowing down to a crawl to avoid accidentally killing one of them, I eased into a parking space that had been reserved for me. The Sheriff and two deputies were there to accept my surrender. One of the deputies opened the door. As I got out the cameras started flashing and the questions poured out.
“How do you feel this morning, Mr. Turner?” a reporter asked.
“As well as to be expected,” I replied.
“Do you think the judge was too harsh with you?” a second reporter said.
I shrugged. The Sheriff took my arm and pulled me toward the door. He said, “All right, clear a path. No more questions. He and his deputies pushed the reporters aside as we made our way inside. Once in, the Sheriff said, ”Well, Stan before we book you and take you to your cell, there is someone here to see you.”
“Really,” I said quite surprised I would already have a visitor.
They escorted me into a small interrogation room where a woman was seated. When she turned and smiled at me I immediately recognized her. She got up and came over to me. We embraced.
“Mrs. Stone,” I said laughing. “What in the world are you doing here?”
She smiled. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Stan. My God, can’t you stay out of trouble? My editor wanted to get your story. He figured it was only appropriate that I come.”
I shook my head. “Well, I’m afraid you can’t bail me out of this one, Mrs. Stone. I went and pissed off the judge and now I’m in here for God knows how long.”
She nodded. “Well, I wish I could do something. I really do. But anyway, I talked the Sheriff into this interview. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I’m not anxious to go to my cell.”
“Has anyone got your story yet?”
“No, I’ve been a little too busy to talk to reporters, but now I’ve got lots of time.”
“Good, then I’d really like to get the inside scoop on all the bizarre things that have been going on with you lately. Can I have the story?”
“You don’t even have to ask. You know you’re the first person I’d give it to.”
“Well then, why don’t we get some coffee and you can start by enlightening me as to why the Sheriff has furnished your cell with a refrigerator full of beer, a TV and a Laz-y-boy recliner?”
A sudden rush of relief came over me. Tears welled up in my eyes. “My God, did he really go and do all that?”