Monsters Got Blamed for Murder, So I Relived the Victim's Last Hour novel · Chapter 18 of 32

Chapter 18: The Reading of the Rings

Sixty Ranger pickups sat in a ring around Vandergriff Valley at ten past five on Sunday morning, with their headlights on and their engines idling.

The Table's trucks came down Route 45 in a line and parked along the gravel shoulder, Honore Street's Silverados first and Racine's box truck last.

A hundred men in Carhartt coats stood in the lot with deer rifles on their shoulders.

The Table's people stood at the gate with theirs.

Nobody raised one.

I had learned that this was how the country settled things now, with everyone armed and everyone waiting to see who would be ashamed first.

Del Vandergriff came out of the front office in a quilted coat over his pajama top, smiling, with a thermos in each hand.

"Inspector! Doc! Coffee," he said. "I'd have lit the place if I'd known you were coming."

Reiss held up the audit order, which carried a Bureau seal and his own signature.

"Rule 14 requires a licensee to report recovered items to the Liaison every month," he said.

"Your log says you have reported none in seven years."

"I'm placing the cabinet under audit seal and moving it to a neutral site."

"Whatever you need," Del said. "We run a clean shop. Captain, tell the boys the rifles stay on the racks."

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