the Gunners?”
Bloster tipped his head back slightly to acknowledge the question.
“Why don’t you start with your relationship with Red,” Otto said.
“My relationship?” he responded, as if the question were perverse.
“Did you think Red made a good president? Did you get along with him? That kind of thing.”
“When you sign the book as a Gunner, you sign it for life. You commit to a way of life. To upholding our Second Amendment rights. We’re not about getting along with each other. We’re about taking care of this country, our women and children.” Bloster glared at Fallow, who refused to look back and instead sipped at his coffee.
“Did you like Red as a person?” Otto asked.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Otto sighed, already tired of Bloster’s tactics. He was a cop and knew exactly what the question had to do with the investigation. “Red’s dead. I need to find out who wanted him that way. I do that by asking a lot of questions to a lot of people. So, tell me. Did you like Red?”
“I loved him like a brother.” Bloster sneered at Otto with the look of a defiant high school punk.
“Did you agree with the way he led the organization?” Otto said.
“Look. Red had the guns. You can’t be the Gunners without guns. Get my drift? So whether I liked him or not was never the point. His sandbox. His rules.”
“Who takes over the club now that Red’s dead?”
Fallow cleared his throat but said nothing.
Bloster said, “I do.”
“I read all through the Gunners’ policy manual. I couldn’t find a provision for what would happen if the president died,” Otto said.
“Or was killed,” Fallow said.
Otto nodded. “Correct. That wasn’t in the policy manual either. So, did the members decide you would lead the group?” Otto asked.
Bloster’s face turned an angry red. “What happens when the president of the United States is killed? Pretty obvious, isn’t it? Why else have a vice president?”
“Who gets the guns?” Otto asked.
“It looks like you do, since we haven’t seen them since you showed up,” Bloster said.
“When we arrived at Red’s place, about an hour after we found Red’s body, the guns were gone. We searched the house and found none. You don’t have them? Don’t know where they are?” Otto asked, looking at him.
Bloster frowned and shook his head no.
“Dr. Fallow?” Otto asked.
“No, sir.”
Otto watched Fallow for a moment and wondered if the man was going to start crying. His forehead wrinkled, and he looked as if he were holding his breath.
“Dr. Fallow, if you have any idea where those guns are, you need to tell me. This could be crucial to finding Red’s killer.”
Fallow slapped his hand on the table and looked at Bloster. “Why don’t you ask him? He and Red were the ones who did things behind our backs.”
Bloster pointed a finger like a pistol toward Fallow. “You better shut the hell up.”
Fallow looked wild-eyed. “I’m tired of listening to you! You aren’t the president. You aren’t anyone’s boss. You’re just a bully. And you and Red have jeopardized everything!”
Bloster stood suddenly, knocking his chair backwards, leaned across the table, and punched Fallow in the mouth.
Otto leaped up from his chair. He pulled his gun and pointed it directly at Bloster’s chest. “Back away from the table!”
Bloster took a step back, surprise registered on his face as if he couldn’t believe he had just punched a man.
“Hand me your gun!” Otto yelled.
Bloster started to protest, but the fierce look Otto gave him worked. He pulled his sidearm from his holster.
Otto used his own gun to point at a folding metal chair several feet to the side of the conference table. “Sit down there and don’t say another word.”
Otto glared at Fallow, who was still sitting in his chair, looking like a whipped pup. Otto pointed toward the back of the room. “There’s a bathroom back there. Why don’t you go clean
Bloster tipped his head back slightly to acknowledge the question.
“Why don’t you start with your relationship with Red,” Otto said.
“My relationship?” he responded, as if the question were perverse.
“Did you think Red made a good president? Did you get along with him? That kind of thing.”
“When you sign the book as a Gunner, you sign it for life. You commit to a way of life. To upholding our Second Amendment rights. We’re not about getting along with each other. We’re about taking care of this country, our women and children.” Bloster glared at Fallow, who refused to look back and instead sipped at his coffee.
“Did you like Red as a person?” Otto asked.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Otto sighed, already tired of Bloster’s tactics. He was a cop and knew exactly what the question had to do with the investigation. “Red’s dead. I need to find out who wanted him that way. I do that by asking a lot of questions to a lot of people. So, tell me. Did you like Red?”
“I loved him like a brother.” Bloster sneered at Otto with the look of a defiant high school punk.
“Did you agree with the way he led the organization?” Otto said.
“Look. Red had the guns. You can’t be the Gunners without guns. Get my drift? So whether I liked him or not was never the point. His sandbox. His rules.”
“Who takes over the club now that Red’s dead?”
Fallow cleared his throat but said nothing.
Bloster said, “I do.”
“I read all through the Gunners’ policy manual. I couldn’t find a provision for what would happen if the president died,” Otto said.
“Or was killed,” Fallow said.
Otto nodded. “Correct. That wasn’t in the policy manual either. So, did the members decide you would lead the group?” Otto asked.
Bloster’s face turned an angry red. “What happens when the president of the United States is killed? Pretty obvious, isn’t it? Why else have a vice president?”
“Who gets the guns?” Otto asked.
“It looks like you do, since we haven’t seen them since you showed up,” Bloster said.
“When we arrived at Red’s place, about an hour after we found Red’s body, the guns were gone. We searched the house and found none. You don’t have them? Don’t know where they are?” Otto asked, looking at him.
Bloster frowned and shook his head no.
“Dr. Fallow?” Otto asked.
“No, sir.”
Otto watched Fallow for a moment and wondered if the man was going to start crying. His forehead wrinkled, and he looked as if he were holding his breath.
“Dr. Fallow, if you have any idea where those guns are, you need to tell me. This could be crucial to finding Red’s killer.”
Fallow slapped his hand on the table and looked at Bloster. “Why don’t you ask him? He and Red were the ones who did things behind our backs.”
Bloster pointed a finger like a pistol toward Fallow. “You better shut the hell up.”
Fallow looked wild-eyed. “I’m tired of listening to you! You aren’t the president. You aren’t anyone’s boss. You’re just a bully. And you and Red have jeopardized everything!”
Bloster stood suddenly, knocking his chair backwards, leaned across the table, and punched Fallow in the mouth.
Otto leaped up from his chair. He pulled his gun and pointed it directly at Bloster’s chest. “Back away from the table!”
Bloster took a step back, surprise registered on his face as if he couldn’t believe he had just punched a man.
“Hand me your gun!” Otto yelled.
Bloster started to protest, but the fierce look Otto gave him worked. He pulled his sidearm from his holster.
Otto used his own gun to point at a folding metal chair several feet to the side of the conference table. “Sit down there and don’t say another word.”
Otto glared at Fallow, who was still sitting in his chair, looking like a whipped pup. Otto pointed toward the back of the room. “There’s a bathroom back there. Why don’t you go clean
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