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

Catholic; he was a believer .” She glanced at Simon. “Your people have been searching for what? An hour? How come they haven’t found anything suggesting Talbot might be gay?”
    “The obvious reason,” Simon said, finally speaking up, “was that Talbot was careful not to leave anything incriminating that his housekeepers might find. He was under investigation once before and knew he couldn’t risk—”
    “Simon!”
    We looked up the stairs and saw Enrique standing on the railed balcony. “Simon, you better hear this!”

6
    T albot’s office was the first door on the left. As with the family room, the furnishings were heavy and dark and included the requisite religious paintings on the walls. A formidable desk topped by a computer and a phone sat against a curtained window at the very back. A file cabinet with a couple of open drawers was tucked in the far right corner, a stack of files sitting on top. A pretty Asian woman and a short, muscular guy stood in the middle of the room, watching us as we entered. The guy was talking on a cell phone, asking someone to check a phone number.
    “Yes, yes, I’ll hold.” He cupped the mouthpiece and announced, “It’ll take a couple of minutes.”
    Nodding to the woman, Enrique said, “Teriko found the message on the answering machine and—”
    “I thought you checked the messages, Enrique,” Simon said.
    “On the machine downstairs. This is the one for Talbot’s second line.”
    He indicated the phone, which had a built-in answering machine, then appraised Teriko expectantly.
    “It’s the fourth message, Lieutenant,” she said to Simon.
    Without being asked, Teriko stepped around the desk to the phone and pressed play with a gloved finger. A metallic voice said, “Thursday, seven-twenty P.M ….”
    She skipped it and the next two calls, then stood back.
    “Thursday, nine-sixteen P.M .” A pause, then a man with an extremely deep voice came on. His words were slurred, as if he’d been drinking. “Talbot? You there, Talbot? You fucking faggot. What the hell did you do? Go crying to your uncle? Jesus, you’re one gutless son of a bitch, you know that. You’d better remember one thing, asshole; your uncle won’t always be around to fight your fucking battles. Watch your back ’cause someday you’ll turn around and I’ll be there. You hear me, Talbot? You hear me? Goddamn fag.”
    A click.
    The speaker hissed. Teriko punched it off and we all gave Enrique a sideways glance. If the vitriolic outburst bothered him, he gave no sign.
    Simon said to Teriko, “Caller ID?”
    “Only the number, Lieutenant. Richard’s trying to get us a name.”
    Richard said, “Shouldn’t be much longer. The phone company will fax out a printout of Major Talbot’s calls—” He spoke into the phone, “Could you repeat that, Ma’am? Thanks.”
    He pocketed the phone, looking at Simon. “A pay phone at a bar in Crystal City, Lieutenant. Quigley’s.”
    The bar’s location was suggestive. A number of military lived in Crystal City because of its close proximity to the Pentagon. Enrique said, “That cinches it. The guy’s got to be in the military. It’s pretty clear that Talbot reserved this line for his work.”
    I said, “You listened to all the messages?”
    “I did,” Teriko said.
    “And you’re sure all the calls came from military personnel?”
    “Pretty sure. Here. You can listen for yourself.” She pressed the play button.
    After the day and time, a woman said, “Major Talbot, Sergeant Crowley. You have a fifteen hundred meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Sanders on—”
    I said, “Move on.”
    She went to the next message. “Hey, hey, Major Talbot, it’s Captain Bingle. I won’t be able to gin up numbers on the force structure allocations. I just got the word I’m being sent TDY to Barksdale—”
    At my nod, Teriko skipped to the third message. “Franklin, Lowell Tenpas. Bad news. We’ll need your talking paper on the POM by Tuesday morning.