A Slow Walk to Hell by Patrick A. Davis Read Free Book Online

approached Simon and Amanda. “Between four-thirty and five-thirty P.M . I can narrow it down, if you can tell me when he last ate.”
    Simon said, “We’re checking. It would have been lunch; the housekeeper had come to make dinner. How many wounds?”
    “Fourteen.”
    “Including the fingers?”
    “Fingers?” I said. Amanda and I swung around to look at Talbot’s hands. Because they were tied behind his back, we’d missed seeing the injuries to his fingers.
    “Yeah,” Cantrell said to Simon. To us: “The tips of the index and forefinger on his left hand are crushed. Probably by pliers.”
    Amanda and I saw the tips of pulverized bone and flesh now. Enrique had called it. Whatever Talbot knew, he’d revealed to the killer.
    Simon said to Cantrell, “You still conclude that the cause of death was cardiac arrest due to blood loss?”
    A nod. “None of the other wounds are fatal, per se. Figured it took Talbot three, four minutes to expire, once his penis was severed.” She sighed, looking down at Talbot. “Real shame. He was a good looking kid. For him to die like this…”
    The room fell silent, all eyes on Talbot’s corpse. We were picturing his final moments, as he lay there wracked with pain, swallowing and gagging as his life ebbed away.
    “The sick son of bitch,” Amanda muttered.
    I had a theory about why the killer felt the need to stab the victim and also crush his fingers. When I mentioned it, I saw nods from both Simon and Cantrell. This was something they’d discussed.
    “You’re correct, Martin,” Simon said. “The killer stabbed Talbot repeatedly, trying to make him reveal information. Talbot must have resisted, so the killer increased the pain level by crushing his fingers. When he got what he wanted, he finished Talbot off.”
    “It appears,” Amanda said, “that there must have been more than one killer. It would take at least two people to tie up Talbot. One to hold a gun on him while the second person bound him.”
    “Could still be a single perp.” Cantrell motioned to her assistant. “Maggie, be a dear and pass me the rope.”
    After Maggie handed over a plastic bag which contained the bloodied rope, Cantrell held it up to us. “Slip knots. Easy enough for one person to keep a gun on Talbot while he slipped the loop over his wrists and cinched it tight.” She passed the bag back to Maggie.
    Of course this didn’t prove there wasn’t more than one killer, but only that one person was capable of securing and torturing Talbot.
    Simon shrugged. “For now, we’ll assume a single perpetrator.”
    “Information,” I said suddenly.
    All eyes went to me, but I was looking at Simon. He knew what I was asking.
    “Assuming Talbot was killed for information,” he said, “that would seem to rule out a hate crime. I understand Major Talbot worked in the Pentagon…”
    I said, “Talbot’s office served an administrative function. He wouldn’t have been exposed to classified information. Certainly nothing anyone would kill him for.”
    “You’re convinced the motive was unrelated to his military duties?”
    “That’s the most likely conclusion. Yes.”
    A faint smile. He’d already determined this. “Excuse me, Doctor.”
    When Cantrell moved aside, Simon knelt over Major Talbot, fingered his rosary beads, and began to pray.
     
    Simon recited his two favorite Psalms dealing with death, the twenty-third and the thirtieth. This was another of his unique talents, an ability to accurately recall information stored in his mental Rolodex.
    When he finished, Simon crossed himself and rose, looking down at Talbot. He took a couple of shallow breaths and seemed to struggle with his composure. “I want who did this,” he said with feeling.
    “Join the club,” Amanda said.
    His eyes sought hers and something unspoken passed between them. She placed a reassuring hand on his back and left it there. Another indication that their relationship had become much closer than I