Secret Prey by John Sandford Read Free Book Online Page A

a large black BMW. As he crossed the I-694 beltline he picked up the cell phone and pushed the speed-dial number. The other phone rang three times before a woman answered it, her voice carrying a slight whiskey burr. ‘‘Hello?’’
    ‘‘This is Bone. Where are you?’’
    ‘‘In my car. On my way back from Southdale.’’
    ‘‘I’m coming over,’’ he said. ‘‘Twenty minutes.’’
    ‘‘Okay . . . you can’t stay long. George is—’’
    ‘‘Twenty minutes,’’ Bone said, and punched off. He pushed another speed-dial button, and another woman answered, this voice younger and crisper: ‘‘Kerin.’’
    ‘‘This is Bone. Where are you?’’
    ‘‘At home.’’
    ‘‘Dan Kresge’s been killed. Shot, probably murdered. Had you heard yet?’’
    ‘‘No. My God . . .’’
    ‘‘I’ll be at the office in an hour, or a little more. If you have the time . . .’’
    ‘‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. Can I get anything started before you get there?’’
    ‘‘Names and phone numbers of all the board members . . .’’
    They talked for five minutes; then Bone punched out again.
    A THREE-CAR FENDER BENDER SLOWED HIM A BIT, BUT he pulled into the downtown parking garage a little less than a half hour after he made the first call. He’d gotten out of his hunting clothes and was wearing a Patagonia jacket with khakis and a flannel shirt. He pulled the jacket off as he rode up in the elevator.
    Marcia Kresge met him at the door in a blue silk kimono. ‘‘You like it? I bought it an hour ago.’’
    ‘‘I hope you’re not celebrating,’’ he said.
    He said it with an intensity that stopped her: ‘‘What happened?’’
    ‘‘Your soon-to-be-ex-husband was shot to death up at the cabin this morning. I’m undoubtedly one of the suspects.’’
    Kresge looked mildly shocked for a quarter-second, then slipped a tiny smile: ‘‘So the fucker’s dead?’’
    ‘‘I hope to Christ you didn’t have anything to do with it.’’
    ‘‘ Moi? ’’ she asked mockingly, one hand going to her breast.
    ‘‘Yeah, Marcia, you’re really cute; I hope you’re not that cute when the cops show up.’’
    ‘‘The cops?’’ Finally serious.
    ‘‘Marcia, sit down,’’ Bone said. Kresge dropped onto a couch, showing a lot of leg. Bone looked at it for a moment, then said, ‘‘Listen, I know you think you fucked over Dan pretty thoroughly. You’re wrong. Last week the board granted him another two hundred and fifty thousand options to buy our stock at forty, as a performance award. If the merger goes through, and it’s botched, the stock’ll be worth sixty in a year. If the merger is done exactly right, it could be at eighty in a year. That’s ten million dollars, and if it’s held for a year, you’ll take out eight after taxes.’’
    ‘‘Me? I—’’
    ‘‘Marcia, shut up for a minute. The options have value. They become part of his estate. You’ll inherit. You’ll also get the rest of his estate, that you didn’t get in the divorce. No taxes at all on that. In other words, Dan gets murdered, you get ten million. I’m up there with a gun, and guess who’s fucking Marcia Kresge?’’
    ‘‘Jesus,’’ she said.
    ‘‘I seriously doubt that he’s involved.’’
    ‘‘But they can’t think I . . . ?’’
    ‘‘You didn’t, did you? You know all those crazy nightclub characters . . .’’
    ‘‘Bone: I had not a goddamned thing to do with it. I really did think I’d taken him to the cleaners . . . and I mean, I didn’t like him, but I wouldn’t kill him.’’
    He knew her well enough to know she wasn’t lying. He exhaled, said, ‘‘Good.’’
    ‘‘You honest to God thought . . .’’
    ‘‘No. I didn’t think you went out and hired some asshole to kill him,’’ Bone said. ‘‘What I was afraid of is, you’d mentioned to one of your little broken-nosed pals that if Dan died, you’d get another whole load of cash.’’
    ‘‘Well, I