Hades by Russell Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

the arms and legs and torso. The bloody sweater. The bloodstained pants. The highly polished black loafers, worn without socks. Two minutes was long enough for what he needed. He had the mental picture in his head. From here on in, the CSU guys could come in and gather their facts. And he was happy to let them do so.
    Justin was a big believer in facts. But he knew that facts were only part of what composed any kind of final truth. He wasn’t sure he could define what the rest of the composition was. Only that, like those damn nail clippers, it was, on the surface, usually unimportant, overlooked. But underneath that surface, it was usually the key. And the key fit a door that led to places most people would never want to go.
    Downstairs, in the living room, Abigail was sipping another vodka. A dull glaze was starting to cloud her eyes.
    Forrest Bannister sat where Justin had left him, the color still drained from his face. He kept making the effort to sit up straight but didn’t seem to have the strength, so he’d move, without warning, from a rigid position, staring straight ahead, to slumped over, head in hands. Occasionally, he made a sound that was somewhere between a sad, lonely sigh and a strangled sob.
    “Mr. Bannister,” Justin said. He thought the man might be nearing a state of shock, so he spoke firmly, trying to get him to snap to attention.
    Bannister slowly turned to face Justin. For a moment, he registered confusion, as if they’d never met, then he seemed to remember where he was and who was speaking to him. He nodded as a response, an indication that he was able to understand that his name had been spoken aloud.
    “Mr. Bannister, I’d like to know what you’re doing here.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Why are you here?”
    The man didn’t seem to understand the question and shook his head as if to clear it. “Because Evan told me to come.”
    “Told you to?”
    Bannister seemed to realize how the phrase must have sounded so he emended it. “He asked me if I could.”
    “What time was this?”
    “What time did he call, you mean?”
    “Yes.”
    “I guess around seven. Maybe a little earlier than that. A quarter to. Six-thirty.”
    “And what time did you get here?”
    “Around ten.”
    “Why the delay?”
    Bannister seemed even more confused. “What delay?”
    Justin cleared his throat and twisted a crick out of his neck. “What were you doing for the three hours in between the call and the time you got here?”
    “I was driving. I took a shower and had to change my clothes, then I had to get the car—”
    “Where were you driving
from
?”
    “The city.”
    “Manhattan?”
    He nodded. “The Upper East Side.”
    “What was so urgent or private that Mr. Harmon couldn’t discuss with you over the phone?”
    “Nothing. He just wanted me here.”
    Justin glanced over at Abby. The look on his face said,
What the fuck is going on
here?
The look on her face gave him nothing in return.
    “Forrest,” Justin said, “were you in the habit of dropping everything and driving a hundred miles just because Evan Harmon asked you to?”
    “Yes, I was.”
    “And why do you think he wanted you here tonight?”
    Forrest Bannister allowed a thin, sad smile to curve his lips only after he gave a long, hard look at Abigail Harmon. “I think he was just lonely,” Bannister said.
    “You’re a heartless prick,” she told him.
    “And you’re a selfish bitch,” he spat right back.
    In the silence that followed, Abby put her drink down on the table. “Jay,” she said slowly. “Excuse me . . . Chief Westwood . . .” Now her voice betrayed the tiniest slurring of words and syllables. “Forrest worked for Evan. He made a lot of money off Evan. So he, like many people, was at Evan’s beck and call. Also,” she said, picking her drink back up, “he was a little bit in love with Evan.”
    Bannister swiveled to stare at Abby. “More in love with him than you were, that’s for damn