Read Online Marcie's Murder by Michael J. McCann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael J. McCann
Ads: Link
have any budget to pay for consultation services but if you could stay for a couple of days and maybe provide us with some advice and guidance as a gesture of good will, I’d be very appreciative.”
“How’s your stock of good wil l these days, Lou?” Karen asked .
“Damned low.” Hank stared at the deputy chief . “Do you seriously think I owe you people any favors?”
“No, you don’t,” Branham agreed, “but I’ll be honest with you . I don’t think Brother Charl e s is good for this. He’s no more a killer than Barney the purple dinosaur. The real killer’s still out there.”
“So go catch the guy . What’s it to me ?”
“Nothing, I understand that,” Branham said. “But I basically run this office and I’m not going to be able to spend all my time on this case, and all I’ve got for a detective is Hall. You’ve seen Hall.”
“ I’ve seen Hall.”
“This is what you do for a living,” Branham pressed. “Surely to God it bothers you that Marcie Askew’s killer ’ s walking around out there thinking he’ s gotten away with it.”
Hank’s temper flared. “You’ve got a lot of goddamned nerve .” He turned on his heel and walked away .
Branham looked at Karen. “I didn’t handle that well . ”
“No kidding.” She folded her arms across her chest as they watched Hank open the door of the Grand Cherokee and pause, one foot up on the rocker panel. He leaned an elbow on the roof of the vehicle and stared straight ahead.
“When I called Maryland,” Branham said, “the sergeant I talked to said Donaghue ’s the best homicide detective he’s seen in twenty years in the job. No offense,” he added quickly.
“None taken.” Karen shifted her weight. “He’s amazing. His IQ would probably scare the shit out of you, but he never lets on. He’s a millionaire from a family of big-time power brokers but he never talks about it or makes you feel like he’s somehow a cut above. Guy like that, you’d figure he’d be soft in the crunch but he never, ever hesitates to go nose to nose with the worst fuckers you can imagine , and he’s the one guy I want covering my six when the bullets start flying.”
“I shouldn’t have worked the guilt angle. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You d idn ’t need to push his buttons,” Karen agreed. “He pushes them all by himself without anybody else’s help. It’s eating him alive that he saw the vic right before she was killed. No cop would like that, but it’s bugging him especially bad.”
“I didn’t mean to piss him off.”
“ Give him a minute.”
They watched Hank drum his fingers on the hood of the Grand Cherokee for several moments. Then he slammed the door and strode back to them.
“What do you think, Detective?” Hank asked Karen , his jaw tight . “ A c o uple of days?”
S he shrugged.
Hank looked at Branham.
“ A c ouple of days.”
1 1
The next morning Billy Askew pulled off the highway i nto a long driveway two miles outside of Bluefield. The driveway was little more than wheel tracks , and Askew’s Ford Explorer bounced in the potholes and craters as he worked his way up to the trailer where his sister Pricie lived with her two youngest children and her husband, Jimmy Neal. It was because of Jimmy that Askew was here this morning. He’d decided that he’d seen about as much as he was going to take.
He got out of the Explorer and walked slowly up to the door of the trailer. A car passed on the highway behind him , and he turned to look. It was nothing, just some car that kept on going in the direction of Bluefield. As the sound of the car faded he stood still , listening. A dog barked in the distance and then stopped. Flies buzzed in the early sun light that lay in strip s across the siding that covered the trailer. A blue vinyl tarp thrown over a pile of lumber stirred in the wind . The trailer itself was silent .
He opened the door, which was never locked, and stepped inside. He paused
“How’s your stock of good wil l these days, Lou?” Karen asked .
“Damned low.” Hank stared at the deputy chief . “Do you seriously think I owe you people any favors?”
“No, you don’t,” Branham agreed, “but I’ll be honest with you . I don’t think Brother Charl e s is good for this. He’s no more a killer than Barney the purple dinosaur. The real killer’s still out there.”
“So go catch the guy . What’s it to me ?”
“Nothing, I understand that,” Branham said. “But I basically run this office and I’m not going to be able to spend all my time on this case, and all I’ve got for a detective is Hall. You’ve seen Hall.”
“ I’ve seen Hall.”
“This is what you do for a living,” Branham pressed. “Surely to God it bothers you that Marcie Askew’s killer ’ s walking around out there thinking he’ s gotten away with it.”
Hank’s temper flared. “You’ve got a lot of goddamned nerve .” He turned on his heel and walked away .
Branham looked at Karen. “I didn’t handle that well . ”
“No kidding.” She folded her arms across her chest as they watched Hank open the door of the Grand Cherokee and pause, one foot up on the rocker panel. He leaned an elbow on the roof of the vehicle and stared straight ahead.
“When I called Maryland,” Branham said, “the sergeant I talked to said Donaghue ’s the best homicide detective he’s seen in twenty years in the job. No offense,” he added quickly.
“None taken.” Karen shifted her weight. “He’s amazing. His IQ would probably scare the shit out of you, but he never lets on. He’s a millionaire from a family of big-time power brokers but he never talks about it or makes you feel like he’s somehow a cut above. Guy like that, you’d figure he’d be soft in the crunch but he never, ever hesitates to go nose to nose with the worst fuckers you can imagine , and he’s the one guy I want covering my six when the bullets start flying.”
“I shouldn’t have worked the guilt angle. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You d idn ’t need to push his buttons,” Karen agreed. “He pushes them all by himself without anybody else’s help. It’s eating him alive that he saw the vic right before she was killed. No cop would like that, but it’s bugging him especially bad.”
“I didn’t mean to piss him off.”
“ Give him a minute.”
They watched Hank drum his fingers on the hood of the Grand Cherokee for several moments. Then he slammed the door and strode back to them.
“What do you think, Detective?” Hank asked Karen , his jaw tight . “ A c o uple of days?”
S he shrugged.
Hank looked at Branham.
“ A c ouple of days.”
1 1
The next morning Billy Askew pulled off the highway i nto a long driveway two miles outside of Bluefield. The driveway was little more than wheel tracks , and Askew’s Ford Explorer bounced in the potholes and craters as he worked his way up to the trailer where his sister Pricie lived with her two youngest children and her husband, Jimmy Neal. It was because of Jimmy that Askew was here this morning. He’d decided that he’d seen about as much as he was going to take.
He got out of the Explorer and walked slowly up to the door of the trailer. A car passed on the highway behind him , and he turned to look. It was nothing, just some car that kept on going in the direction of Bluefield. As the sound of the car faded he stood still , listening. A dog barked in the distance and then stopped. Flies buzzed in the early sun light that lay in strip s across the siding that covered the trailer. A blue vinyl tarp thrown over a pile of lumber stirred in the wind . The trailer itself was silent .
He opened the door, which was never locked, and stepped inside. He paused
Similar Books
