Read Online A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries) by A.W. Hartoin - Free Book Online
Authors: A.W. Hartoin
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the Danielle Steel variety. I took a picture of the book on its afghan. I tipped up the book with my fingernail. Gavin was halfway through. I took note of the page. For some reason, it was comforting to know what he’d last read. Carefully, I lay the book back as I found it.
All three bedrooms and the two bathrooms were unremarkable and undisturbed. The shower and sink drains were clean. I didn’t expect to see splashes of blood or the killer’s hair in the drain, since it wasn’t that kind of murder, but you never knew. Plus, I knew Dad would’ve looked. I wasted more time on those rooms and moved on to Gavin’s office, taking pictures of the door, both sides, and the view into the office. It was messy as I expected. For a small room, Gavin packed a lot in. Three of the four walls had floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled to overflowing. The bay window seat was stacked with how-to manuals on home improvement. Gavin collected how-to books like my father collected crime manuals. Some of the books were scattered on the floor. Gavin wasn’t a neat freak, but I doubted he’d let his books fall and not pick them up. I shot the window seat from several angles, and continued to look around. The chair was across the room about four feet from the desk, and there were several papers and a couple of file folders on the floor.
I got Dad’s iPad out of my backpack and noted the names on the folders. The files appeared to be intact, so they probably didn’t mean anything. They were just in the way. I went through the papers and books on the desk using my fingernails to lift and shift. I wrote down every name and phone number I found.
My phone kept ringing nonstop. I gritted my teeth and answered. All I heard was raucous laughter and rude noises. I hung up, switched to vibrate, and threw the phone in the bottom of my backpack. I feared turning it off altogether, in case Mom or Dr. Grace called.
I shook off the freaky phone calls and pressed the play button on Gavin’s old school answering machine with my pen. The machine said, “No Messages.” That was odd. Dad usually had a ton of messages. I flipped up the lid and found the cassette holder empty. The landline was only used for business, so I guessed I was looking for a client or someone who knew a client. If the killer had thought to take the tape, he’d want to take his file, too. I hadn’t thought much about Gavin’s files. The drawers were closed, and there were no signs of the struggle around it. I checked it out anyway, and opened the top drawer.
Gavin was an organizing freak when it came to his files. I’d done some office work for him a few years ago during college. Each drawer was divided with hanging green files. Inside the hanging files were manila folders tagged and dated with the client’s information. Gavin kept several folders per hanging file. He liked to divide the case into aspects with files for billing, handwritten notes, transcribed notes, dictated notes, interviews, research and so forth. Filing for Gavin was a pain because each file was unique. He used one cabinet in the office, but there were several more down in the basement. He kept the active and recent files upstairs. There were four drawers. I started at the top and worked my way down. I used my nails to let my fingers do the walking. From what I could tell all the files in the first two drawers were intact. I got lucky on the third drawer. S had two empty hanging files. Since the hanging files weren’t tagged, I couldn’t tell what belonged there. Gavin didn’t allow empty files, so someone took them. The fourth drawer didn’t yield anything new.
While I was on my knees, I glanced at the wall to the right of the cabinet. A black smudge started at five inches above the floor and ended at the carpet. It looked like a mark from the sole of a shoe. I crouched with my face a foot from the wall and studied it, looking for anything. I slowly got to my feet, and when I was standing straight, I
All three bedrooms and the two bathrooms were unremarkable and undisturbed. The shower and sink drains were clean. I didn’t expect to see splashes of blood or the killer’s hair in the drain, since it wasn’t that kind of murder, but you never knew. Plus, I knew Dad would’ve looked. I wasted more time on those rooms and moved on to Gavin’s office, taking pictures of the door, both sides, and the view into the office. It was messy as I expected. For a small room, Gavin packed a lot in. Three of the four walls had floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled to overflowing. The bay window seat was stacked with how-to manuals on home improvement. Gavin collected how-to books like my father collected crime manuals. Some of the books were scattered on the floor. Gavin wasn’t a neat freak, but I doubted he’d let his books fall and not pick them up. I shot the window seat from several angles, and continued to look around. The chair was across the room about four feet from the desk, and there were several papers and a couple of file folders on the floor.
I got Dad’s iPad out of my backpack and noted the names on the folders. The files appeared to be intact, so they probably didn’t mean anything. They were just in the way. I went through the papers and books on the desk using my fingernails to lift and shift. I wrote down every name and phone number I found.
My phone kept ringing nonstop. I gritted my teeth and answered. All I heard was raucous laughter and rude noises. I hung up, switched to vibrate, and threw the phone in the bottom of my backpack. I feared turning it off altogether, in case Mom or Dr. Grace called.
I shook off the freaky phone calls and pressed the play button on Gavin’s old school answering machine with my pen. The machine said, “No Messages.” That was odd. Dad usually had a ton of messages. I flipped up the lid and found the cassette holder empty. The landline was only used for business, so I guessed I was looking for a client or someone who knew a client. If the killer had thought to take the tape, he’d want to take his file, too. I hadn’t thought much about Gavin’s files. The drawers were closed, and there were no signs of the struggle around it. I checked it out anyway, and opened the top drawer.
Gavin was an organizing freak when it came to his files. I’d done some office work for him a few years ago during college. Each drawer was divided with hanging green files. Inside the hanging files were manila folders tagged and dated with the client’s information. Gavin kept several folders per hanging file. He liked to divide the case into aspects with files for billing, handwritten notes, transcribed notes, dictated notes, interviews, research and so forth. Filing for Gavin was a pain because each file was unique. He used one cabinet in the office, but there were several more down in the basement. He kept the active and recent files upstairs. There were four drawers. I started at the top and worked my way down. I used my nails to let my fingers do the walking. From what I could tell all the files in the first two drawers were intact. I got lucky on the third drawer. S had two empty hanging files. Since the hanging files weren’t tagged, I couldn’t tell what belonged there. Gavin didn’t allow empty files, so someone took them. The fourth drawer didn’t yield anything new.
While I was on my knees, I glanced at the wall to the right of the cabinet. A black smudge started at five inches above the floor and ended at the carpet. It looked like a mark from the sole of a shoe. I crouched with my face a foot from the wall and studied it, looking for anything. I slowly got to my feet, and when I was standing straight, I
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