Read Online Hardy 05 - Mercy Rule, The by John Lescroart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Lescroart
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the ‘20,’ David Freeman appeared in his doorway with a bottle of wine and some glasses, and the telephone rang.
He threw up his hands. ‘Life,’ he said, ‘it happens all at once.’
Freeman would wait and the phone wouldn’t, so he grabbed at it. ‘Yo.’
‘Hardy. Abe.’
‘By God, I think it is. You sound just like yourself.’
‘It’s a disguise for people who think I’m somebody else.’
‘So what’s up? You’re going to say Graham Russo.’
Freeman came over and put the glasses down on Hardy’s desk, then lifted a haunch onto the corner of it.
Over the phone Hardy heard his prediction come true. ‘I’m calling about Graham Russo.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘This is a courtesy call. You must have impressed Lanier and Evans with your manners. I asked them if they minded if I call you and they said no.’
‘They’re really quite perceptive individuals,’ Hardy said, ‘for police persons. So what about Graham?’
Glitsky told him.
* * * * *
Freeman repeated it, making sure he’d heard it right. ‘Fifty thousand dollars in wrapped bills? Four complete sets of early-fifties baseball cards?’
‘That’s it.’
The old man drank off most of his glass of red wine. Hardy noticed the world outside his window, that night had completely fallen.
He looked at his watch. Eight-fourteen. He had to stop now, call it a day, get home. He’d get a call later if Graham got booked tonight, and he’d have to come down to the jail. He didn’t feel he would survive without a little time off.
David Freeman, on the other hand, had no family or consuming interests outside of the law. He had lived this way for all of his adult life and now, after his own full day in court, he was settling down with a newly filled glass, enthralled with the details of yet another case. It never ended for Freeman — he never wanted it to. ‘So it’s not an assisted suicide after all?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean fifty grand plus the cards, taken from the old man’s safe. This is not what we call altruism. He offed the guy to get the money.’
Hardy waved that off. ‘I don’t think that happened, David. You’ve got to know him.’
‘I don’t need to know him if I’ve got the evidence. If the evidence says he did it, then he did it.’
‘You always say that.’
‘That’s because it’s always true.’ Freeman had settled himself on the couch. He’d brought the bottle over and put it on the coffee table in front of him. He poured himself more wine, swirled it in his glass, sloshed it around in his mouth, the connoisseur. ‘Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile? Share this excellent claret with me. Take a break, for Christ’s sake, you’ve been at it all day. This new case of yours has all the makings.’
Hardy threw another dart. The hell with the personal best game, he thought. He’d get it some other time. ‘Believe it or not, spending another hour or two here in the middle of the night discussing a case I’m not even taking is not my idea of a break. I’m thinking about going home, saying hello to my wife before she leaves me, maybe kissing my kids good-night.’
Freeman pursed his lips with distaste. ‘Aren’t you curious about the money?’
‘There’s an explanation for the money.’
‘That’s my point. Don’t you want to know what it is?’
‘I’ll catch it on the news.’ He had walked around his desk and grabbed his suit coat from the back of his chair where he’d hung it, and now, on his way to the door, he was pulling it on. He stopped at the doorway and picked up his briefcase. ‘You want to lock up and get the lights when you leave? The landlord here’s a real tyrant.’
Freeman picked up his bottle and got himself to his feet. ‘No, I’ll go down to my office.’
His brown suit looked like he’d taken a shower with it on, then slept in it. There were half a dozen rusted dots around his shirt collar
He threw up his hands. ‘Life,’ he said, ‘it happens all at once.’
Freeman would wait and the phone wouldn’t, so he grabbed at it. ‘Yo.’
‘Hardy. Abe.’
‘By God, I think it is. You sound just like yourself.’
‘It’s a disguise for people who think I’m somebody else.’
‘So what’s up? You’re going to say Graham Russo.’
Freeman came over and put the glasses down on Hardy’s desk, then lifted a haunch onto the corner of it.
Over the phone Hardy heard his prediction come true. ‘I’m calling about Graham Russo.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘This is a courtesy call. You must have impressed Lanier and Evans with your manners. I asked them if they minded if I call you and they said no.’
‘They’re really quite perceptive individuals,’ Hardy said, ‘for police persons. So what about Graham?’
Glitsky told him.
* * * * *
Freeman repeated it, making sure he’d heard it right. ‘Fifty thousand dollars in wrapped bills? Four complete sets of early-fifties baseball cards?’
‘That’s it.’
The old man drank off most of his glass of red wine. Hardy noticed the world outside his window, that night had completely fallen.
He looked at his watch. Eight-fourteen. He had to stop now, call it a day, get home. He’d get a call later if Graham got booked tonight, and he’d have to come down to the jail. He didn’t feel he would survive without a little time off.
David Freeman, on the other hand, had no family or consuming interests outside of the law. He had lived this way for all of his adult life and now, after his own full day in court, he was settling down with a newly filled glass, enthralled with the details of yet another case. It never ended for Freeman — he never wanted it to. ‘So it’s not an assisted suicide after all?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean fifty grand plus the cards, taken from the old man’s safe. This is not what we call altruism. He offed the guy to get the money.’
Hardy waved that off. ‘I don’t think that happened, David. You’ve got to know him.’
‘I don’t need to know him if I’ve got the evidence. If the evidence says he did it, then he did it.’
‘You always say that.’
‘That’s because it’s always true.’ Freeman had settled himself on the couch. He’d brought the bottle over and put it on the coffee table in front of him. He poured himself more wine, swirled it in his glass, sloshed it around in his mouth, the connoisseur. ‘Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile? Share this excellent claret with me. Take a break, for Christ’s sake, you’ve been at it all day. This new case of yours has all the makings.’
Hardy threw another dart. The hell with the personal best game, he thought. He’d get it some other time. ‘Believe it or not, spending another hour or two here in the middle of the night discussing a case I’m not even taking is not my idea of a break. I’m thinking about going home, saying hello to my wife before she leaves me, maybe kissing my kids good-night.’
Freeman pursed his lips with distaste. ‘Aren’t you curious about the money?’
‘There’s an explanation for the money.’
‘That’s my point. Don’t you want to know what it is?’
‘I’ll catch it on the news.’ He had walked around his desk and grabbed his suit coat from the back of his chair where he’d hung it, and now, on his way to the door, he was pulling it on. He stopped at the doorway and picked up his briefcase. ‘You want to lock up and get the lights when you leave? The landlord here’s a real tyrant.’
Freeman picked up his bottle and got himself to his feet. ‘No, I’ll go down to my office.’
His brown suit looked like he’d taken a shower with it on, then slept in it. There were half a dozen rusted dots around his shirt collar
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