Read Online Homicide! (Parker & Knight Book 2) by Donald Wells - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donald Wells
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I’m not here to discuss my roots; I’m here to buy a bar.”
“Where’s that bastard, Hearn?”
“Tim and I are friends. He sent me to negotiate for him, and by negotiate I mean that he’ll pay you exactly half of the last offer he made.”
Patrick looked stricken.
“Half? But, his last offer was insult enough. He must be joking?”
Nico moved closer to Patrick, uncomfortably close.
“If you think we’re joking then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Patrick backed away and scurried behind his grandfather’s wheelchair. Nico laughed as he watched him, and then took a seat across from them in a leather wing chair.
“What’s it gonna be old man? Do we make a deal, or do we continue to dance?”
Nathanial Taggart chuckled, and the sound was so filled with phlegm that it made Nico clear his own throat.
“Let me tell you something boy, I’ve been dealing with punks like you for over eighty years, and I’ll tell you just what I told the others.”
Nico smirked. “And just what would that be?”
“Die,” the old man said. “I told them to die.”
As he talked, a withered hand slipped beneath the blanket on his lap and found the gun hidden there. It was an ancient .32 Colt.
The old man fired while the gun was still under the blanket and the first bullet hit Nico in the chest.
Nico looked down at the blood spreading across his shirt in amazement, and then jumped up. As he charged the wheelchair, a second shot was fired at an upward angle and the slug caught him above the right eye and entered his brain.
Nico screamed while clutching his head, and then fell backwards to the carpet, where he twitched in spasms with his eyes closed.
Patrick had staggered backwards into the desk and was half sitting on it when his grandfather spun the wheelchair around and smiled at him.
“That’s how you handle punks, Pat, and let me tell you something boy, it works every time.”
Pat stared at his grandfather, a look of horror on his face.
“You, you, you killed him, murdered him right in our house.”
“He ain’t quite dead yet the way he’s twitching, but he will be... and he ain’t the first man I shot in this house; believe me... although it’s been a while since the last one.”
“Oh God, the police will lock you away, even at your age, they’ll lock you away.”
The old man gave him a confused look.
“What the hell are you talking about? Once you bury this sorry sack of shit... he’ll be forgotten, and I guarantee you that Tim Hearn won’t try any more nonsense. Now, go get a shovel and dig a hole in... in the woods before he starts to rot.”
“Are you mad? The only thing I’m going to do is call the police and an ambulance, maybe, maybe they’ll believe it was self-defense.”
The old man reddened with rage.
“Police? Damn you boy, be a man for once. We don’t need no police... especially that woman. Now, go do like I told you and... and get a damn shovel.”
Patrick picked up the phone on the desk to dial.
“Put that phone down! Damn you Pat, you listen to me, I—aaaghhh,”
Nathanial Taggart grabbed at his chest as he clenched his eyes tightly.
“Grandfather!”
Patrick replaced the phone in its cradle and went to him, but there was nothing to be done. The old man stiffened in his chair, let out a gasp, and slumped back in his seat, dead.
Patrick checked his pulse and found nothing, and the age-speckled flesh already felt cool to the touch. On the floor, Nico continued to twitch, but the spasms were growing less intense.
For the second time that night, Patrick staggered backwards to the desk, but as he gazed at the dead form of his grandfather, two words entered his mind.
I’m free.
***
P arker had turned his phone off that night so that nothing came between him and Heather, and so didn’t learn of the events at the Taggart estate until he checked his messages after taking Heather home.
The date had been fantastic and he and Heather realized that despite the
“Where’s that bastard, Hearn?”
“Tim and I are friends. He sent me to negotiate for him, and by negotiate I mean that he’ll pay you exactly half of the last offer he made.”
Patrick looked stricken.
“Half? But, his last offer was insult enough. He must be joking?”
Nico moved closer to Patrick, uncomfortably close.
“If you think we’re joking then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Patrick backed away and scurried behind his grandfather’s wheelchair. Nico laughed as he watched him, and then took a seat across from them in a leather wing chair.
“What’s it gonna be old man? Do we make a deal, or do we continue to dance?”
Nathanial Taggart chuckled, and the sound was so filled with phlegm that it made Nico clear his own throat.
“Let me tell you something boy, I’ve been dealing with punks like you for over eighty years, and I’ll tell you just what I told the others.”
Nico smirked. “And just what would that be?”
“Die,” the old man said. “I told them to die.”
As he talked, a withered hand slipped beneath the blanket on his lap and found the gun hidden there. It was an ancient .32 Colt.
The old man fired while the gun was still under the blanket and the first bullet hit Nico in the chest.
Nico looked down at the blood spreading across his shirt in amazement, and then jumped up. As he charged the wheelchair, a second shot was fired at an upward angle and the slug caught him above the right eye and entered his brain.
Nico screamed while clutching his head, and then fell backwards to the carpet, where he twitched in spasms with his eyes closed.
Patrick had staggered backwards into the desk and was half sitting on it when his grandfather spun the wheelchair around and smiled at him.
“That’s how you handle punks, Pat, and let me tell you something boy, it works every time.”
Pat stared at his grandfather, a look of horror on his face.
“You, you, you killed him, murdered him right in our house.”
“He ain’t quite dead yet the way he’s twitching, but he will be... and he ain’t the first man I shot in this house; believe me... although it’s been a while since the last one.”
“Oh God, the police will lock you away, even at your age, they’ll lock you away.”
The old man gave him a confused look.
“What the hell are you talking about? Once you bury this sorry sack of shit... he’ll be forgotten, and I guarantee you that Tim Hearn won’t try any more nonsense. Now, go get a shovel and dig a hole in... in the woods before he starts to rot.”
“Are you mad? The only thing I’m going to do is call the police and an ambulance, maybe, maybe they’ll believe it was self-defense.”
The old man reddened with rage.
“Police? Damn you boy, be a man for once. We don’t need no police... especially that woman. Now, go do like I told you and... and get a damn shovel.”
Patrick picked up the phone on the desk to dial.
“Put that phone down! Damn you Pat, you listen to me, I—aaaghhh,”
Nathanial Taggart grabbed at his chest as he clenched his eyes tightly.
“Grandfather!”
Patrick replaced the phone in its cradle and went to him, but there was nothing to be done. The old man stiffened in his chair, let out a gasp, and slumped back in his seat, dead.
Patrick checked his pulse and found nothing, and the age-speckled flesh already felt cool to the touch. On the floor, Nico continued to twitch, but the spasms were growing less intense.
For the second time that night, Patrick staggered backwards to the desk, but as he gazed at the dead form of his grandfather, two words entered his mind.
I’m free.
***
P arker had turned his phone off that night so that nothing came between him and Heather, and so didn’t learn of the events at the Taggart estate until he checked his messages after taking Heather home.
The date had been fantastic and he and Heather realized that despite the
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