4 The Marathon Murders by CHESTER D CAMPBELL Read Free Book Online

I
couldn’t refuse. While we waited for salads and half a sandwich, Jill targeted
in on the problem at hand.
    “After talking to his sister,” she
said, “do you still think somebody with an interest in those papers got to
Bradley?”
    I leaned back in the booth and
crossed my arms. “Let’s consider the alternative. I suppose if he left his
sister’s in a rage, he might have been mad enough to toss his cell phone out
the window. But he has a responsible job and sounds like an intelligent man.
Doesn’t strike me as something a normal person would do.”
    “I suppose not. Other than that
cell phone and his not being home last night, though, we really don’t have
anything to suggest that something out of the ordinary has happened, do we?”
    “We have a strong hunch, but
hunches have to be backed up with facts. Let’s reserve judgment until we get a
good look at his house. If we don’t find anything there, we can check the
hospital or the sheriff.”
    I got high marks for not ordering
dessert, and we headed toward Trousdale County around two. The sun beamed down
like the red-hot eye on an electric stove, but my trusty Jeep’s air conditioner
proved adequate to the challenge. By contrast, the passing parade of luckless
cows had to get by with only their tails for fans. Most clustered under shade
trees like Fourth of July picnickers or tested the waters of nearby ponds.
    We made it to Walnut Grove with no
delays. Pulling into Bradley’s driveway, I noticed the not-too-distant sky
seeded with cumulus clouds that had blossomed into towering thunderheads.
    “Typical August build-ups,” Jill
said. “Not a good time for flying.”
    Holder of a commercial pilot’s
license she had used in her charter air service, Jill still owned a Cessna 172
that she flew regularly, sometimes on McKenzie Investigations business.
    In the daylight, Bradley’s
double-wide looked much more inviting. The neatly kept lawn bordered on a
walkway lined with multi-colored rows of impatiens and begonias. Beige drapes
covered the windows. I wondered momentarily about that but noted the house
faced westward. We also kept our drapes closed against the afternoon sun. I saw
no vehicles around the place.
    As we headed across the concrete
walk toward the front door, I noticed the drapes at one window had been left
with a small gap at the bottom.
    “Let’s check this out,” I said,
moving toward the window.
    Jill walked up behind me as I
peered inside. “Look at this, babe.” I motioned to her.
    Staring into the living room, we
saw a straight chair turned onto its side. Papers lay scattered about the
carpet. Except for the overturned chair, it resembled the shambles we had seen
at Arthur Liggett’s.
    “Oh, my God,” Jill whispered. “This
doesn’t look good at all.”
    I pushed up the bill of my Titan’s
cap. “That’s for damned sure.”
    I hurried to the door and banged on
it. After waiting a few moments, I took out my handkerchief, covered the knob
and gently turned it. The door opened. I took a step inside and looked around.
Other pieces of furniture appeared to have been shoved about and papers,
magazines, books, anything that might have provided a hiding place, littered
the floor. A range hood light had been left on in the kitchen. Its glow
illuminated a dark, rusty splotch on the carpet in the doorway leading from the
living room.
    I turned to Jill. “Stay right here.
This has the look of a crime scene. Let me check closer on one thing.”
    I walked carefully across to the
doorway and squatted beside what appeared to be a bloody spot just outside the
kitchen. If there had been blood on the vinyl floor, someone had cleaned it up.
I didn’t venture any farther. The implications left me with a deepening unease.
Our case was about to get out of hand. As I turned toward the front door, I
spotted another item that stopped me. A heavy wooden walking stick topped by
what looked like a doorknob lay on the floor. There appeared to be blood