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

realized.
    I told myself not to read to much into it. But I couldn’t forget Amanda’s ring and inference that came with it.
    Bob had money.
    As Amanda withdrew her hand, Simon said to Cantrell, “You appreciate the priority of this case?”
    “Relax, Simon. I’ll have the autopsy finished by tonight. Say around two.” Addressing her assistant, Cantrell said, “Maggie, bag his hands and feet. Leave the duct tape on his mouth. I’ll remove that when—problem, Simon?”
    Moving toward her with an apologetic expression, Simon explained that Congressman Harris would arrive in a little over an hour to view his nephew.
    “Aw, Christ.” Cantrell threw up her hands and appeared really put out. “Why can’t he come down to the morgue? We can be there in thirty minutes.”
    “I’ve explained that would be preferable. He insisted he wanted to view the body here.”
    Cantrell grimaced in frustration. “Fine. What do I care? So I’ve got to stay up half the night. It’s not like someone my age needs beauty sleep. I assume it’s okay to prep the body for transport and Nate here can still do his thing.”
    “Of course.”
    On cue, Maggie and the criminalist Nate went to work. Nate’s job was to scour the room for trace evidence left behind by the killer.
    To Simon, Cantrell said, “Let Maggie know when she can transport the body. Me, I’m going to get some dinner. Prima donna politicians give me a headache. The morgue is closer to the airport, but you know that. If I were you, I’d ask myself why the hell he really is coming here.” She punctuated the comment with a knowing look, popped off her gloves, and walked out.
    “She’s right,” Amanda said to Simon. “Harris would save fifteen minutes if he drove straight to the morgue. Why is he really coming here?”
    He gave her a long look. “Don’t you know?”
    She started to shake her head, then stopped. “He’s afraid we’ll find something?”
    “I don’t think there’s much doubt.”
    No one said what that something was; we all knew. After all, with a politician, image was everything.
    Checking his watch, Simon said, “We don’t have time. I want to determine the truth before Harris arrives. Let’s see how the search is going upstairs.”
     
    As we retraced our steps down the hallway, Amanda and I tucked in on either side of Simon. I said to him, “You realize this might still be a hate crime.”
    He shook his head. “Talbot was killed for information.”
    “Unless the killer tortured Talbot to confuse the motive. Make us think it was a hate crime when it wasn’t.” My terminology sounded a little ridiculous in light of the horrific nature of the killing, but I was going by the legal definition of a hate crime, where the motive would have solely been based upon Talbot’s sexuality.
    “Why would he, Martin?”
    “Try this. According to General Hinkle, Talbot received a lot of hate mail when he was accused of being gay, most from people with a military connection. It could be the killer was someone who wrote one of the letters. Hell, he could even be one of Talbot’s co-workers. We know Talbot knew his killer, right?”
    A skeptical look; he wasn’t buying the hate crime angle. I wasn’t either, but you never knew.
    “Uh, guys,” Amanda said. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a little? For all we know, Talbot was straight.”
    I kept quiet, waiting for Simon to point out why this couldn’t be true, but he never did. He just gave her a little smile. It was as if he didn’t want to disagree with her and I tried not to dwell on the reason why.
    As we entered the foyer and continued toward the staircase, I asked Amanda why Congressman Harris was coming here if not to suppress information that his nephew was gay.
    “It could be something else he’s worried about us finding.”
    “Such as…”
    “How would I know?” She stopped at the staircase and circled a hand around the room. “Take a good look, Marty. This guy wasn’t a Sunday