When former State Supreme Court Justice Jack Adair gets out of prison for trumped up bribery charges, he knows there is a price on his head.
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St. Martin's Griffin
December 08, 2003
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Excerpt from The Fourth Durango by Ross Thomas
When the white bedside telephone rang at 4:03 A.M. on that last Friday in June, the thirty-six-year-old mayor answered the call halfway through its fourth ring and kicked the thirty-nine-year-old chief of police on the ankle to make sure he too was awake.
After a muttered hello, the mayor listened silently for a minute and a half. She listened with mouth grim and eyes narrowed, forming what the chief of police had long regarded as her pothole complaint look. Once the ninety seconds were up, the mayor ended the call with a peremptory "Right" that was little more than a farewell grunt.
As the mayor listened, the chief of police had occupied himself with another inspection of the bedroom's textured ceiling, wondering yet again why the sprayed-on stuff always wound up looking like three-week-old cottage cheese. The moment the mayor put down the telephone, the chief closed his eyes and asked, "Dixie?" -- sleepiness and the hour robbing the question of any real curiosity.
"Dixie," the mayor agreed.
"She just tucked him into bed."
"How much did he drink?"
"Dixie says the bar."