Read Online Misery Bay by Steve Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

FBI. You must be Alex.”
    “FBI?”
    “Please, have a seat. I’ll explain why I’m here.”
    We sat down and she slid one of the coffees to me. She had brown hair, cut in a short, no-nonsense style. She had nice eyes, but again, everything about her was business first, second, and third. It was hard to imagine her doing anything else but wearing this suit and sitting on the other side of this table.
    “I have to apologize, first of all, for making you wait so long. I know this was already a horrible day for you. The wait couldn’t have made it any easier.”
    “It’s all right. I understand.”
    “We had to drive all the way up here from Detroit. Almost six hours.”
    A hell of a trip, I thought, one I’d made many times myself. But I could never remember looking this alert and ready to go when I got there.
    “So let’s get right to it so we don’t have to take up any more of your time. If you’ll start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened—”
    “Can I just ask you first why the FBI is involved in this case?”
    “Because Charles Razniewski was a U.S. marshal. Any murder of a federal agent, from any law enforcement branch, is automatically under the jurisdiction of the FBI.”
    “Yeah, that’s right. I think I knew that, once upon a time.”
    “You were a police officer.” She didn’t have any notes in front of her, but I wasn’t surprised she knew that. She had obviously been brought up to full speed on me and I was sure she could tell me a lot more about myself. She probably even knew my career batting average.
    “I was,” I said. “For eight years.”
    “Do you mind me asking why you left?”
    Okay, I thought, so she doesn’t know everything.
    “I got shot,” I said. “Is this important information for this case?”
    “I’m just curious. I apologize.”
    “No apology necessary.”
    “Very well, then. So can you tell me what happened? I understand you were out in Houghton, interviewing people about his son’s suicide?”
    “Not really interviewing. Nothing that official. He just asked me to find out what I could.”
    “And what did you learn out there?”
    I hesitated. “According to Charlie’s friends, he and his father got into an argument about Charlie switching his major from criminal justice to forestry. Nothing his father had said to me made me believe it was such a big problem between them—nothing more than ordinary father-son stuff—but apparently it was. But I wasn’t going to come back and tell him that.”
    “Why not? Isn’t that what he asked you to find out?”
    “I don’t think it would have done anybody any good. Not that it makes any difference now.”
    “You didn’t get the chance to speak to him before you found him today? You didn’t call him?”
    “I tried to, but he wasn’t answering his cell phone.”
    “I noticed the cell service isn’t very good up here.”
    “Some days it works better than others, depending on where you are. I did get through to his voice mail.”
    “Okay,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “That’s all in line with what I’ve heard so far. Apparently, you called him just after noon today. You were in Marquette.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “The signal from your cell phone went through the tower there. You called him again around two o’clock, just outside Sault Ste. Marie.”
    “You guys work fast,” I said. “So I’m sure you know the approximate time of death, too.”
    “Right around noon. So obviously you’re eliminated as a suspect.”
    “That’s not why I was asking. I just want to know when it happened.”
    “Once a cop, always a cop,” she said. “So yes, the murder occurred right around the first time you called him. It’s possible the killer was still in the room when Mr. Razniewski’s cell phone rang.”
    I thought about that one for a moment. I imagined Raz on the floor, already bleeding, his phone ringing and being unable to answer it. One of the last things he heard