Read Online Missing Witness by Craig Parshall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Craig Parshall
Ads: Link
particular. But because of everything I know in general about Blackjack Morgan, it wouldnât surprise me if that guy was somehow behind my automobile accident. Morganâs done a great job of fooling a lot of folks on the Banks. Heâs even got a good rapport with some of the judges.â
Will shook hands with the attorney, and then walked quickly through the hospital on his way to the parking lot. Beckfordâs last statement was not a welcome bit of information. The last thing Will wanted was a case involving another pathological opponent. He had had, over the years, too many of those kinds of cases.
On the other hand, Willâs curiosity about August Longfellowâand the truth about Isaac Joppaâhad been piqued. He decided there was one more conversation he needed to have. He needed to talk to Longfellow and find out something about the real odds of proving Isaac Joppaâs innocence. And about the two mysterious women in Joppaâs life.
10
B LACKJACK M ORGAN , C ARLTON R OBIDEAU , and Orville Putrie were in the back office of Ocean Search, Incorporated, Morganâs ocean salvage company. The two mechanics and the secretary had gone for the day. Now, the only light left on was in the grimy office, where a flickering, buzzing fluorescent fixture illuminated the room from the ceiling.
All three were staring at the corroded metal box on the desk.
âGive me the rubber mallet and the chisel,â Morgan barked out to Robideau.
He took the chisel and laid it against the clasp of the lock. He swung the mallet back and then brought it down hard on the chisel. The box hopped across the desk from the blow. Then he tipped the box over on its side and began ferociously hammering down on the chisel, which lay against the clasp of the padlock.
Chips of old iron and corroded metal flew as he pounded.
After a few minutes, the lock gave way and broke into several pieces. Morgan grabbed the box and tried to pry the top open. But the top wouldnât open. He then took the box and slammed it down on the metal desk several times.
Then he took the chisel and mallet and began banging the chisel into the edge that separated the lid from the rest of the box.
When the lid still wouldnât open, Morgan turned to Robideau and said, âYou take over. Smash it up. Split it open. I want this thing opened now!â
Robideau swung back the malletâpulling his arm back so far he almost hit Putrie in the faceâand then brought it down hard on the handle of the chiselâwhich split the corroded metal.
He grabbed the lid and box with his bare hands and began pulling the metal apart, bending and twisting it.
After a few minutes of effort, his muscles straining and rippling, he was able to twist the lid off and reveal the contents.
Morgan pushed Robideau away and put his face down close to the opening of the box and stared in.
Robideau was looking over his shoulder. âHey. Thereâs nothing but sand and a seashell in there,â he said with a guffaw.
Putrie shouldered his way in between the two taller men, glancing in for himself.
Morgan took the twisted box and emptied the contents on the top of the desk. There was sand, some ocean water, and a single seashell.
âSo you sent me down in a nighttime dive for this junk. A whole lot of nothing. Zero. I canât believe this,â Robideau said in disgust.
Morgan lifted up the seashell. It was a light, bone-colored shell. But it was a unique-looking shell, tapered at one end and blunt at the other, about six inches long. And it was smooth and worn as if it had been polished in a machine shop. Morgan turned it over.
And then his eyes widened. He stared closer.
In the middle of the other side of the seashell, in what looked like an inscription with India ink, there were two almost hieroglyphic symbols. One looked like a âY,â but with a line intersecting up through the middleâperhaps it was a cross with the two
Will shook hands with the attorney, and then walked quickly through the hospital on his way to the parking lot. Beckfordâs last statement was not a welcome bit of information. The last thing Will wanted was a case involving another pathological opponent. He had had, over the years, too many of those kinds of cases.
On the other hand, Willâs curiosity about August Longfellowâand the truth about Isaac Joppaâhad been piqued. He decided there was one more conversation he needed to have. He needed to talk to Longfellow and find out something about the real odds of proving Isaac Joppaâs innocence. And about the two mysterious women in Joppaâs life.
10
B LACKJACK M ORGAN , C ARLTON R OBIDEAU , and Orville Putrie were in the back office of Ocean Search, Incorporated, Morganâs ocean salvage company. The two mechanics and the secretary had gone for the day. Now, the only light left on was in the grimy office, where a flickering, buzzing fluorescent fixture illuminated the room from the ceiling.
All three were staring at the corroded metal box on the desk.
âGive me the rubber mallet and the chisel,â Morgan barked out to Robideau.
He took the chisel and laid it against the clasp of the lock. He swung the mallet back and then brought it down hard on the chisel. The box hopped across the desk from the blow. Then he tipped the box over on its side and began ferociously hammering down on the chisel, which lay against the clasp of the padlock.
Chips of old iron and corroded metal flew as he pounded.
After a few minutes, the lock gave way and broke into several pieces. Morgan grabbed the box and tried to pry the top open. But the top wouldnât open. He then took the box and slammed it down on the metal desk several times.
Then he took the chisel and mallet and began banging the chisel into the edge that separated the lid from the rest of the box.
When the lid still wouldnât open, Morgan turned to Robideau and said, âYou take over. Smash it up. Split it open. I want this thing opened now!â
Robideau swung back the malletâpulling his arm back so far he almost hit Putrie in the faceâand then brought it down hard on the handle of the chiselâwhich split the corroded metal.
He grabbed the lid and box with his bare hands and began pulling the metal apart, bending and twisting it.
After a few minutes of effort, his muscles straining and rippling, he was able to twist the lid off and reveal the contents.
Morgan pushed Robideau away and put his face down close to the opening of the box and stared in.
Robideau was looking over his shoulder. âHey. Thereâs nothing but sand and a seashell in there,â he said with a guffaw.
Putrie shouldered his way in between the two taller men, glancing in for himself.
Morgan took the twisted box and emptied the contents on the top of the desk. There was sand, some ocean water, and a single seashell.
âSo you sent me down in a nighttime dive for this junk. A whole lot of nothing. Zero. I canât believe this,â Robideau said in disgust.
Morgan lifted up the seashell. It was a light, bone-colored shell. But it was a unique-looking shell, tapered at one end and blunt at the other, about six inches long. And it was smooth and worn as if it had been polished in a machine shop. Morgan turned it over.
And then his eyes widened. He stared closer.
In the middle of the other side of the seashell, in what looked like an inscription with India ink, there were two almost hieroglyphic symbols. One looked like a âY,â but with a line intersecting up through the middleâperhaps it was a cross with the two
Similar Books
