Read Online Lou Mason Mystery 03-Cold Truth by Joel Goldman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joel Goldman
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waited until the driver behind him honked twice.
"I'm going," Harry muttered, wiping his eyes again.
"Your eyes okay?" Mason asked.
"They're fine," Harry answered. "Just these damn allergies."
Harry was not normally talkative, except about old cases he'd handled. Some baseball pitchers could recite every pitch they ever threw in a game, adding location, speed, and spin to the name of the opposing batter, the balls and strikes, and who won the battle. Harry was like that with cases he'd investigated, especially murder cases. Outside of that, he wasn't much for small talk. Mason often wondered what Harry and his Aunt Claire talked about. She must have tapped into Harry's other dimension. Mason envied them. They had been together as long as he could remember. Though they'd never married, they were as tightly bound as any couple he'd ever known.
Mason was certain that Samantha had briefed Harry as a professional courtesy, even though Harry was retired. Mason expected Harry to cross-examine him on the way home, but Harry didn't say a word. Mason appreciated the quiet ride. He would eventually use Harry as a sounding board to test different murder scenarios. At the moment, he was still digesting what Samantha had told him and wasn't ready to talk. Still, he wondered about Harry's allergies, especially since he couldn't remember the last time Harry had even sneezed.
Harry pulled in the driveway behind Mason's TR-6. Blues and Mickey had dropped it off but not waited around. As Mason got out of the car, Harry turned to him.
"One other thing," Harry said, as if they'd been talking the whole time.
"What's that?"
"Sam told me they checked that elevator the night Davenport was killed. There was nothing wrong with it. The certificate of inspection had been renewed a month ago."
Mason leaned against the open door, one foot on the ground, the other on the running board. "You think I should sue the elevator inspector?" Harry just looked at him. "No," Mason answered for him. "You think someone sabotaged the elevator because they knew I was in it? Did Samantha tell you that?"
"Something to think about," Harry said. "Remember what I told you. Don't go to bed."
Mason thought about Harry's advice as he stood under a hot shower. If his adventure in the elevator had been a murder attempt, Harry's warning about not going to bed was good advice. He'd better stay awake.
And he'd better take Trent Hackett more seriously.
Trent was the building manager, so he had access to the elevator control room and, probably, enough knowledge to make it happen. He gave Mason the key to Davenport's office and could count on Mason taking a ride. Since the elevator didn't stop on any other floors, Trent knew that no one else would be at risk. If Mason stayed off the elevator, Trent could fix it before anyone discovered what he'd done. Plus, Trent scored high on the freak-ometer.
It was then that Mason remembered the video camera on the elevator. If he had escaped a murder attempt, the killer had to have known he was on the elevator. He called Samantha.
"What about the camera on the elevator?" he asked, skipping hello. "Where's the video?"
"Gone," she answered. "The monitor and the VCR is in the control room. There was no tape. Watch your back, Lou."
If Trent had tried to kill Mason, there was a good chance Jordan was innocent or Trent was guilty of something else that he was afraid Mason would uncover. The Hacketts were starting to look like a nuclear family in the midst of a runaway meltdown.
Chapter 8
Mason liked privacy. He liked shutting out the rest of the world when he prepared for trial or wrestled with the devil. All of which meant he hated jails and the claustrophobic cubicles reserved for prisoners to meet with their lawyers. Mason took the jailers at their word that his conversations with his clients were not recorded, but in a crowded corner of his heart he made room for distrust of cops, jailers, and prosecutors. It was enough to keep
"I'm going," Harry muttered, wiping his eyes again.
"Your eyes okay?" Mason asked.
"They're fine," Harry answered. "Just these damn allergies."
Harry was not normally talkative, except about old cases he'd handled. Some baseball pitchers could recite every pitch they ever threw in a game, adding location, speed, and spin to the name of the opposing batter, the balls and strikes, and who won the battle. Harry was like that with cases he'd investigated, especially murder cases. Outside of that, he wasn't much for small talk. Mason often wondered what Harry and his Aunt Claire talked about. She must have tapped into Harry's other dimension. Mason envied them. They had been together as long as he could remember. Though they'd never married, they were as tightly bound as any couple he'd ever known.
Mason was certain that Samantha had briefed Harry as a professional courtesy, even though Harry was retired. Mason expected Harry to cross-examine him on the way home, but Harry didn't say a word. Mason appreciated the quiet ride. He would eventually use Harry as a sounding board to test different murder scenarios. At the moment, he was still digesting what Samantha had told him and wasn't ready to talk. Still, he wondered about Harry's allergies, especially since he couldn't remember the last time Harry had even sneezed.
Harry pulled in the driveway behind Mason's TR-6. Blues and Mickey had dropped it off but not waited around. As Mason got out of the car, Harry turned to him.
"One other thing," Harry said, as if they'd been talking the whole time.
"What's that?"
"Sam told me they checked that elevator the night Davenport was killed. There was nothing wrong with it. The certificate of inspection had been renewed a month ago."
Mason leaned against the open door, one foot on the ground, the other on the running board. "You think I should sue the elevator inspector?" Harry just looked at him. "No," Mason answered for him. "You think someone sabotaged the elevator because they knew I was in it? Did Samantha tell you that?"
"Something to think about," Harry said. "Remember what I told you. Don't go to bed."
Mason thought about Harry's advice as he stood under a hot shower. If his adventure in the elevator had been a murder attempt, Harry's warning about not going to bed was good advice. He'd better stay awake.
And he'd better take Trent Hackett more seriously.
Trent was the building manager, so he had access to the elevator control room and, probably, enough knowledge to make it happen. He gave Mason the key to Davenport's office and could count on Mason taking a ride. Since the elevator didn't stop on any other floors, Trent knew that no one else would be at risk. If Mason stayed off the elevator, Trent could fix it before anyone discovered what he'd done. Plus, Trent scored high on the freak-ometer.
It was then that Mason remembered the video camera on the elevator. If he had escaped a murder attempt, the killer had to have known he was on the elevator. He called Samantha.
"What about the camera on the elevator?" he asked, skipping hello. "Where's the video?"
"Gone," she answered. "The monitor and the VCR is in the control room. There was no tape. Watch your back, Lou."
If Trent had tried to kill Mason, there was a good chance Jordan was innocent or Trent was guilty of something else that he was afraid Mason would uncover. The Hacketts were starting to look like a nuclear family in the midst of a runaway meltdown.
Chapter 8
Mason liked privacy. He liked shutting out the rest of the world when he prepared for trial or wrestled with the devil. All of which meant he hated jails and the claustrophobic cubicles reserved for prisoners to meet with their lawyers. Mason took the jailers at their word that his conversations with his clients were not recorded, but in a crowded corner of his heart he made room for distrust of cops, jailers, and prosecutors. It was enough to keep
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