Read Online Bitter Legacy: A Matt Royal Mystery (Matt Royal Mysteries) by H. Terrell Griffin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: H. Terrell Griffin
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better looking.”
“I don’t know, Bill. He’s pretty stunning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the chief and he’s not. Kintz pisses me off.”
“Why?”
“How’d you like to have people mixing you up with somebody all the time?”
“That’s not Kintz’s fault.”
“Right. He could move to California or something.”
“You’re just jealous because he dresses better than you do.”
A car turned into my street and parked behind the chief’s cruiser. The CSI guy. He came over to us, carrying a large case. “Hey, Matt, Chief,” he said. “Anything I should know before I get started?”
“No,” said Lester. “Go on in and do your thing.”
“How long before I can get in the house?” I asked.
“Give me an hour,” said the CSI guy. “By then, I’ll have a pretty good idea of whether there is any recoverable evidence.” He turned and headed for the front door, leaning a little to his right as the heavy case pulled on his arm.
“Let’s get some coffee,” said Lester. “The Market’s still open.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Market was quiet. Andrew, who owned the place and worked sixteen hour days every day, was behind the deli counter. Two older men sat on the stools arranged along the length of the counter, sipping coffee and talking quietly.
“Chief, Matt,” said Andrew. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I said.
“Anything to eat?” asked Andrew.
I looked at Lester. “No,” he said, “just coffee. Black.”
We took our cups and retreated to a table in the corner. Bill blew over the top of his cup, took a sip, smiled, and said, “Hits the spot. Why couldn’t you have discovered your problem while it was still daylight?”
“Because you told me to go to the hospital to meet your buddy Kintz.”
“Right. What were they looking for, Matt?”
“You mean in the house?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have any idea. None. I don’t understand why anybody would want to kill Logan or Abraham or screw up my home.”
“These things don’t just come out of the blue. There’s got to be a connection. You and Logan have been hanging out for years, so Abraham would seem to be the new factor in the equation. Any thoughts on what he was doing here?”
“He must have been coming to see me for some reason having to do with the money thing he mentioned to your officer. Abraham’s not the type to lie to a cop. I’ll go see the manager at my old condo tomorrow; see if Abraham went there. It makes sense that if he couldn’t find me, someonewould send him to Logan. He’d never met Logan, so that’s the only reason I can think of for him being at Logan’s condo on the night of the shooting.”
We sat for an hour, talking about old friends, fishing, the weather, and occasionally veering back to the problems at hand. Who would want to kill Logan? Did they want to kill me, too? I thought so, since somebody had sent Jube Smith after me with a gun. This thing had to be tied in to Osceola and his money issue. That was the only connection, but even if somebody was trying to kill Abraham over money, why were Logan and I in the line of fire? It was a puzzle.
The chief’s cell phone rang. He answered, hung up, and said, “The CSI guy says you can go home.”
The house was an even bigger mess than when I’d last seen it. The CSI guy was waiting by the front door when the chief and I drove up. “Sorry about the mess, Matt. I used a lot of dust trying to get a good fingerprint. Nothing.”
The chief said, “In all that mess, you didn’t find anything?”
The CSI guy shook his head. “I’m afraid we don’t know any more now than we did an hour ago. Whoever the guy was, he wore gloves. He was a careful son of a bitch. He went through every drawer and nook and cranny in the house. Looked like he was in a hurry.”
“So it wasn’t just vandalism,” I said. “Somebody was looking for something.”
“Looks that way,” the CSI guy said.
I stood at the threshold, hesitant to go in. The disaster was
“I don’t know, Bill. He’s pretty stunning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the chief and he’s not. Kintz pisses me off.”
“Why?”
“How’d you like to have people mixing you up with somebody all the time?”
“That’s not Kintz’s fault.”
“Right. He could move to California or something.”
“You’re just jealous because he dresses better than you do.”
A car turned into my street and parked behind the chief’s cruiser. The CSI guy. He came over to us, carrying a large case. “Hey, Matt, Chief,” he said. “Anything I should know before I get started?”
“No,” said Lester. “Go on in and do your thing.”
“How long before I can get in the house?” I asked.
“Give me an hour,” said the CSI guy. “By then, I’ll have a pretty good idea of whether there is any recoverable evidence.” He turned and headed for the front door, leaning a little to his right as the heavy case pulled on his arm.
“Let’s get some coffee,” said Lester. “The Market’s still open.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Market was quiet. Andrew, who owned the place and worked sixteen hour days every day, was behind the deli counter. Two older men sat on the stools arranged along the length of the counter, sipping coffee and talking quietly.
“Chief, Matt,” said Andrew. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I said.
“Anything to eat?” asked Andrew.
I looked at Lester. “No,” he said, “just coffee. Black.”
We took our cups and retreated to a table in the corner. Bill blew over the top of his cup, took a sip, smiled, and said, “Hits the spot. Why couldn’t you have discovered your problem while it was still daylight?”
“Because you told me to go to the hospital to meet your buddy Kintz.”
“Right. What were they looking for, Matt?”
“You mean in the house?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have any idea. None. I don’t understand why anybody would want to kill Logan or Abraham or screw up my home.”
“These things don’t just come out of the blue. There’s got to be a connection. You and Logan have been hanging out for years, so Abraham would seem to be the new factor in the equation. Any thoughts on what he was doing here?”
“He must have been coming to see me for some reason having to do with the money thing he mentioned to your officer. Abraham’s not the type to lie to a cop. I’ll go see the manager at my old condo tomorrow; see if Abraham went there. It makes sense that if he couldn’t find me, someonewould send him to Logan. He’d never met Logan, so that’s the only reason I can think of for him being at Logan’s condo on the night of the shooting.”
We sat for an hour, talking about old friends, fishing, the weather, and occasionally veering back to the problems at hand. Who would want to kill Logan? Did they want to kill me, too? I thought so, since somebody had sent Jube Smith after me with a gun. This thing had to be tied in to Osceola and his money issue. That was the only connection, but even if somebody was trying to kill Abraham over money, why were Logan and I in the line of fire? It was a puzzle.
The chief’s cell phone rang. He answered, hung up, and said, “The CSI guy says you can go home.”
The house was an even bigger mess than when I’d last seen it. The CSI guy was waiting by the front door when the chief and I drove up. “Sorry about the mess, Matt. I used a lot of dust trying to get a good fingerprint. Nothing.”
The chief said, “In all that mess, you didn’t find anything?”
The CSI guy shook his head. “I’m afraid we don’t know any more now than we did an hour ago. Whoever the guy was, he wore gloves. He was a careful son of a bitch. He went through every drawer and nook and cranny in the house. Looked like he was in a hurry.”
“So it wasn’t just vandalism,” I said. “Somebody was looking for something.”
“Looks that way,” the CSI guy said.
I stood at the threshold, hesitant to go in. The disaster was
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