Seed of Evil by Greig Beck (smart books to read TXT) 📗

you know my reservations on that. Eldon survives on tourist income, and anything we do to jeopardize that could spell disaster for working families in and all around the town and country.”

Mitch sighed. “I think we have a bigger problem than you imagine.”

“I can only imagine based on the facts presented to me. Until I see something more compelling, then I can’t imagine authorizing anything more.” Melnick waited a moment as he stared back at Mitch. “I think we’re done here, Doctor Taylor.” He reached down to take Mitch’s hand and shook it. “Keep up the good work—I like you, I really do. And let me tell you, I appreciate your passion and all your hard work.”

Melnick turned to Greg and simply nodded. “And now, I have work to do.”

The mayor vanished back inside, and then Alston closed the door without a single glance at either of them.

Greg turned. “We sure showed him.”

“Yep, had him eating out of my hand.” Mitch chuckled. “Now do you see what I’m up against?”

“Yeah. But you and I both know something weird is going on. And I’m hoping that by the time we do collect enough proof, it isn’t too late.”

Mitch nodded. “Then only one thing to do: gather more proof. Let’s pay a visit to dear old Mr. Harlen Bimford.”

*****

Mitch drove slowly past Harlen’s drug and convenience store, noticing that the door usually open and welcoming was now shut up tight.

“He never shuts that door this time of day.” Mitch slowed to a crawl.

“Maybe he’s in mourning for his dog,” Greg said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Mitch pulled into the sidewalk and pushed his door open. He put his hand over his eyes from the midday sunshine and squinted at the store.

“And all dark inside,” he observed.

The pair approached the door and cupped their hands around their eyes to peer inside.

“Nothing,” Greg replied slowly. He shifted his gaze. “But I can see a few things scattered on the floor.”

“Sheriff said he was attacked by Buford, so maybe he just hasn’t got around to cleaning up yet.” Mitch moved to the door.

“Was he hurt?” Greg turned to him.

“Kehoe didn’t mention it. Otherwise, ole Harlen might have paid me a visit. Come on.” He tried the door but it wouldn’t budge. “Locked.”

“’Round back?” Greg turned to the corner. “Try this way.”

Mitch followed down the sidewalk and then took a hard right past a pottery shop. He turned about and saw that the street was unnaturally quiet. Odd, given it was a Thursday, and it was neither overly hot nor cold.

The rear of the shops was a laneway with a few trashcans out, some garages or vans parked, and power poles. The pair quickly made their way to the back of Harlen’s shop.

“This looks like it,” Mitch said.

Greg lifted the shop’s trashcan’s lid and peered in. “He likes his soda.” He reached in and pulled an empty bottle out. “Eldon Spring Water—Super Health Tonic.” He was about to close it and then paused. He turned about, reached for a broken length of rod, and used it to lift something else from the bin’s interior.

He held it out. “Torn shirt, with blood.” He looked up. “The dog’s blood or owner’s?”

Mitch frowned. “Ripped to shreds. But then again, that dog thing had teeth like rose thorns. Good reason to check on the guy.” He turned to the door. “Here goes.” He knocked on the door, hard.

They waited a few moments, while Mitch held his ear closer.

“Nothing.” He tried the door handle and found it locked.

“He might be out,” Greg said.

“Where? The guy is about 75 in the shade.” Mitch grinned. “I really hope he’s not sitting in my office waiting room bleeding out.”

“We should call the sheriff. I mean, this is his territory,” Greg said.

“No, we can’t wait for him. Harlen could be hurt or worse.” Mitch listened at the door again. “Gotta go in—no one left behind to suffer.”

“Geez, you still hung up on that?” Greg scoffed. “Let it go, Mitch. Sheriff can be here in a minute or two. Come on, buddy, drop that Syrian baggage.”

Mitch frowned. “I’m not hung up on anything.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Greg replied evenly.

“Listen, I…” Mitch put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground for a moment. He didn’t come here just to walk away. Besides, if someone was hurt, he was never walking away again.

Maybe I am hung up, he thought.

He decided. “Fuck it. Potential medical emergency, we’re going in.”

He grabbed the handle, leaned back a little, and then rammed his shoulder into the door. It gave off a sound of wood cracking but didn’t budge.

“One more.” He held onto the door handle but leaned back about an arm’s length this time and then pulled and propelled himself into the door. It exploded inward with a shower of splintered wood.

The pair went in fast, Mitch going left and Greg right, and found themselves in the rear of Harlen’s shop, which he had obviously been using as a kitchen, washroom, and storeroom.

Greg put his arm over his lower face. “Jesus, spoiled food.”

“Spoiled something,” Mitch replied.

He tried the light switch and got nothing. “Of course they won’t work.”

“Got a flashlight?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, in my car.” Mitch pushed the door open a little further to give them some more light and also some better quality air.

“You’re off the hook.” Greg found a flashlight on a shelf. He switched it on, and though the beam was a little yellow, it would do the job in the darkness.

Mitch held up a hand. “Mr. Bimford? Harlen? It’s Doctor Taylor. I took over from Ben Wainright.” He tilted his head to listen but heard nothing.

“Time to advance, buddy,” Greg said softly.

“Lead on,” Mitch said.

Greg lifted the flashlight and paused to speak over his shoulder. “Why do I wish I had a sidearm right now?”

“Stay cool, eyes out,” Mitch whispered.

Greg headed in, moving the beam of light from one side of the passageway to the other as he went. “Got a room here.” He stopped and then quickly