Read Online Dirty Harry 07 - Massacre at Russian River by Dane Hartman - Free Book Online
Authors: Dane Hartman
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they’re around all right. To make their presence known, they fling cups and saucers, knock books down from their shelves, make disturbing noises in the middle of the night, pull open windows and doors, and generally make life miserable for whomever it is they’ve chosen to haunt.
Mike Kilborn was something like a poltergeist in this respect. He was known to be around somewhere even when one couldn’t exactly catch a glimpse of him. He gave off a certain vibration. At any moment, Harry expected to turn and find him standing there, his eyes barely discernible behind tinted shades, half a joint perched between his chapped lips.
He moved like a ghost too. Harry wouldn’t have been greatly surprised to learn that he passed right through walls. He had a lithe, nimble body. He could get over and go under things that very few other mortals could. He’d be excellent as a second-story man or as a limbo dancer. But clearly his ambitions were of a much higher order.
When he materialized in the rearview mirror of Harry’s car, pink glasses and pallid face, Harry was not so certain he wouldn’t put a gun to his head and blow his brains out. This did not happen. Kilborn had only wanted to throw a scare into Harry by slipping into his locked car without leaving any evidence behind of the break-in.
They were outside the county courthouse. It looked just like a county courthouse should look at eight in the morning with the sun shining down on it: pristinely white and all-American.
“What did you do, slip in through the tailpipe?” Harry asked, not yet daring to turn around.
“That’s not important. What is important is you skulking around my home last night.”
“You ought to hire a maid, you know that. You are developing some very unsanitary habits.”
“Didn’t I tell you when you came here that if you wanted me you could always find me? You don’t have to break into my van. The question is are you with me or are you against me? I told you I had connections. You ought to regard me as a local resource, not those two clowns in there.” He gestured toward the courthouse, where soon Turk and Davenport would begin plotting their excursion up into the mountains.
“Oh, I do. I do regard you as a local resource,” Harry said.
“Then what was it you were looking for last night? You want to know something, you have only to ask.”
“I would’ve asked. You just weren’t at home.”
“Man, I’m always around. You should’ve waited.” He paused, then said, “You weren’t looking for drugs, were you?”
“Now why should I do a thing like that?”
A sly grin took hold of Kilborn’s lips. “Oh I don’t know. Some people in this town think I’m heavy into drugs. I just hope you don’t buy what they’re selling. Well now, it looks like I got to be going. I just wanted to say good-bye. Understand you’ll be leaving us pretty soon.”
“I don’t know about that,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “I think I like it up in these parts. Very restful and bucolic, if you know what I mean.”
There was silence from Kilborn. “That’s not what I hear. I hear you’re returning to San Francisco.”
“Plans have a way of changing in Russian River.”
“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t stick around. I’m just telling you that as a friend.”
“A friend,” Harry repeated skeptically.
“But whatever you do, it’s all the same to me.”
Kilborn opened the door of the car. “Have a good day.”
“No, thank you. I have other plans.”
Kilborn didn’t go too far. His decrepit Mercury was parked just a block up the road. Harry waited until he’d pulled away from his parking space and made a U-turn before starting up his own vehicle.
It looked as though Kilborn was heading out of town, south in the direction of San Francisco. Harry decided that it might behoove him to follow and see just where his destination lay.
Traffic picked up the closer they got to Highway 101, and it was possible, though Harry
Mike Kilborn was something like a poltergeist in this respect. He was known to be around somewhere even when one couldn’t exactly catch a glimpse of him. He gave off a certain vibration. At any moment, Harry expected to turn and find him standing there, his eyes barely discernible behind tinted shades, half a joint perched between his chapped lips.
He moved like a ghost too. Harry wouldn’t have been greatly surprised to learn that he passed right through walls. He had a lithe, nimble body. He could get over and go under things that very few other mortals could. He’d be excellent as a second-story man or as a limbo dancer. But clearly his ambitions were of a much higher order.
When he materialized in the rearview mirror of Harry’s car, pink glasses and pallid face, Harry was not so certain he wouldn’t put a gun to his head and blow his brains out. This did not happen. Kilborn had only wanted to throw a scare into Harry by slipping into his locked car without leaving any evidence behind of the break-in.
They were outside the county courthouse. It looked just like a county courthouse should look at eight in the morning with the sun shining down on it: pristinely white and all-American.
“What did you do, slip in through the tailpipe?” Harry asked, not yet daring to turn around.
“That’s not important. What is important is you skulking around my home last night.”
“You ought to hire a maid, you know that. You are developing some very unsanitary habits.”
“Didn’t I tell you when you came here that if you wanted me you could always find me? You don’t have to break into my van. The question is are you with me or are you against me? I told you I had connections. You ought to regard me as a local resource, not those two clowns in there.” He gestured toward the courthouse, where soon Turk and Davenport would begin plotting their excursion up into the mountains.
“Oh, I do. I do regard you as a local resource,” Harry said.
“Then what was it you were looking for last night? You want to know something, you have only to ask.”
“I would’ve asked. You just weren’t at home.”
“Man, I’m always around. You should’ve waited.” He paused, then said, “You weren’t looking for drugs, were you?”
“Now why should I do a thing like that?”
A sly grin took hold of Kilborn’s lips. “Oh I don’t know. Some people in this town think I’m heavy into drugs. I just hope you don’t buy what they’re selling. Well now, it looks like I got to be going. I just wanted to say good-bye. Understand you’ll be leaving us pretty soon.”
“I don’t know about that,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “I think I like it up in these parts. Very restful and bucolic, if you know what I mean.”
There was silence from Kilborn. “That’s not what I hear. I hear you’re returning to San Francisco.”
“Plans have a way of changing in Russian River.”
“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t stick around. I’m just telling you that as a friend.”
“A friend,” Harry repeated skeptically.
“But whatever you do, it’s all the same to me.”
Kilborn opened the door of the car. “Have a good day.”
“No, thank you. I have other plans.”
Kilborn didn’t go too far. His decrepit Mercury was parked just a block up the road. Harry waited until he’d pulled away from his parking space and made a U-turn before starting up his own vehicle.
It looked as though Kilborn was heading out of town, south in the direction of San Francisco. Harry decided that it might behoove him to follow and see just where his destination lay.
Traffic picked up the closer they got to Highway 101, and it was possible, though Harry
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