Read Online A Killing Gift by Leslie Glass - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie Glass
Tags: thriller
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decision, though. April realized that she had only one story to tell and she would tell the same one to anyone who asked. She opened her laptop and typed the short version.
When she was finished, Kathy read it and sighed. "My father didn't like strangers crowding him even in bars. If anyone got close enough to take him, it would have to be someone he knew."
So Bill had talked to her. April lifted a shoulder and wrote,
Any ideas?
Kathy covered the bottom of her nose and mouth with a hand as she thought about it. "You know, I could go way back on this. Dad was an MP in the army before he became a cop. Over in Vietnam. Before I was born. He's always been in law enforcement. He was a damn good cop, and good cops make enemies. You know that."
April guessed she did know. She had a few enemies herself.
Did he have some special buddies from then that he kept up with?
"Yeah, I heard stories. I never met any of them, though."
Helpful.
What about pictures? Do you have pictures?
"Oh, yes, there are a lot of pictures. Do you suspect one of them? Someone from then?"
I don't know. Just the way he was taken down suggests a military angle. Every killing tells a story; you know that. So what could it be here, revenge from an old gripe? A new one? Any ideas?
she asked again. It took a while to type it all.
"No," Kathy broke in before she was done.
What about his cases. Did he ever talk to you about anything special?
April tried something else.
"Oh, sure, all the time. Dad wasn't one of those guys who kept work and home separate. A lot of them do, you know. They pack up the gun and take off for work and you never know where they are or when they're coming back. And when they do get back, they give you that look that says, 'No questions, please.' That puts up a wall no one can get through."
Kathy seemed proud of the way her father had been. "Dad liked to talk about his cases. Not the gory stuff, but the puzzles, the personalities. He liked what he did. He must have, or Bill and I wouldn't do what we do." She paused for a minute, refocusing on April's question, then shook her head.
"Enemies… I just don't know." Then her expression hardened. "He had that money, that lottery money. What was it, fifteen million after taxes?"
Really?
April had no idea it was that much. She'd never asked.
"It was all in the newspapers. His name, his profession. Pretty much everything but his phone number. What about that angle?" Kathy asked.
Yeah, we'll look into it for sure. Kathy, did he give
you any of it? Did he promise it to you? How was he handling it?
"Oh, jeez. The truth is he wasn't much interested. Mom was the one who wanted to strike it rich and move to Florida, you know. She probably spent more on lottery tickets over the years than she did on food. It used to piss Dad off big-time." Kathy let out a short laugh at the old family conflict. Her father the cop. Her mother the gambler.
"After he got that money I'll bet a thousand people called him. Money managers, stockbrokers, bankers. Every neighbor. And the causes-oh, God! Cancer, heart fund, starving children. Police Foundation. Half of Chinatown. Maybe more than a thousand requests. There's a stack of grant requests in here somewhere. He was collecting them."
Did he have a plan?
"Yeah, get out of town. That was his plan."
A spending plan, I mean,
April typed.
"Well, he was a shrewd guy. He wanted a simple life. A little room somewhere. Nothing special. We thought he'd get over it." Kathy gave April rueful smile. "And he thought it was our money because it was Mom's money. He wasn't going to give it away to strangers anytime soon."
But what about you? Didn't your mom give some of it to you before she died?
Kathy shook her head. "Too sick to care. She left it to Dad. He didn't want to deal with it. End of story."
April found this hard to believe. Bernardino won millions and was holding out on his kids? Why? And Kathy didn't seem upset about it. Wouldn't she be upset? Nobody couldn't
When she was finished, Kathy read it and sighed. "My father didn't like strangers crowding him even in bars. If anyone got close enough to take him, it would have to be someone he knew."
So Bill had talked to her. April lifted a shoulder and wrote,
Any ideas?
Kathy covered the bottom of her nose and mouth with a hand as she thought about it. "You know, I could go way back on this. Dad was an MP in the army before he became a cop. Over in Vietnam. Before I was born. He's always been in law enforcement. He was a damn good cop, and good cops make enemies. You know that."
April guessed she did know. She had a few enemies herself.
Did he have some special buddies from then that he kept up with?
"Yeah, I heard stories. I never met any of them, though."
Helpful.
What about pictures? Do you have pictures?
"Oh, yes, there are a lot of pictures. Do you suspect one of them? Someone from then?"
I don't know. Just the way he was taken down suggests a military angle. Every killing tells a story; you know that. So what could it be here, revenge from an old gripe? A new one? Any ideas?
she asked again. It took a while to type it all.
"No," Kathy broke in before she was done.
What about his cases. Did he ever talk to you about anything special?
April tried something else.
"Oh, sure, all the time. Dad wasn't one of those guys who kept work and home separate. A lot of them do, you know. They pack up the gun and take off for work and you never know where they are or when they're coming back. And when they do get back, they give you that look that says, 'No questions, please.' That puts up a wall no one can get through."
Kathy seemed proud of the way her father had been. "Dad liked to talk about his cases. Not the gory stuff, but the puzzles, the personalities. He liked what he did. He must have, or Bill and I wouldn't do what we do." She paused for a minute, refocusing on April's question, then shook her head.
"Enemies… I just don't know." Then her expression hardened. "He had that money, that lottery money. What was it, fifteen million after taxes?"
Really?
April had no idea it was that much. She'd never asked.
"It was all in the newspapers. His name, his profession. Pretty much everything but his phone number. What about that angle?" Kathy asked.
Yeah, we'll look into it for sure. Kathy, did he give
you any of it? Did he promise it to you? How was he handling it?
"Oh, jeez. The truth is he wasn't much interested. Mom was the one who wanted to strike it rich and move to Florida, you know. She probably spent more on lottery tickets over the years than she did on food. It used to piss Dad off big-time." Kathy let out a short laugh at the old family conflict. Her father the cop. Her mother the gambler.
"After he got that money I'll bet a thousand people called him. Money managers, stockbrokers, bankers. Every neighbor. And the causes-oh, God! Cancer, heart fund, starving children. Police Foundation. Half of Chinatown. Maybe more than a thousand requests. There's a stack of grant requests in here somewhere. He was collecting them."
Did he have a plan?
"Yeah, get out of town. That was his plan."
A spending plan, I mean,
April typed.
"Well, he was a shrewd guy. He wanted a simple life. A little room somewhere. Nothing special. We thought he'd get over it." Kathy gave April rueful smile. "And he thought it was our money because it was Mom's money. He wasn't going to give it away to strangers anytime soon."
But what about you? Didn't your mom give some of it to you before she died?
Kathy shook her head. "Too sick to care. She left it to Dad. He didn't want to deal with it. End of story."
April found this hard to believe. Bernardino won millions and was holding out on his kids? Why? And Kathy didn't seem upset about it. Wouldn't she be upset? Nobody couldn't
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