the 13th Hour by Richard Doetsch Read Free Book Online

fragments of flesh and bone, several tufts of hair drifting on an unseen breeze. With everything going on down at the crash site, no one would arrive up here to clean this tragic reminder of violence against the innocent for days to come. That wouldn't do. He would get on the phone and get someone up from the city, and while he was at it, he would begin the daunting task of arranging the funeral that Nick's fragile mind was incapable of planning.
"Hey!" The voice startled Marcus, shocking him back to the moment.
"What the hell are you doing?" Shannon said. "We told you to stay next door with her husband until we're done."
"I thought--" Marcus looked around. "I thought you were done."
"This is a crime scene, and it's just the two of us. We've got to do all the printing and investigation on our own. We're done when I say were done."
"I'm sorry." Marcus headed back to the kitchen door. "I'll be next door."
"Where's Quinn? I thought you were going to stay with him. Shit." Shannon paused, suddenly nervous. "Is he the type to run?"
"Run? Run from what? His wife is dead. He can barely stand."
"You know what?" the cop said, holding up his finger. "You're here. Let's have a conversation."
The cop turned and walked toward the living room as if he owned the place, indicating for Marcus to follow. "This won't take long."
Marcus nodded. "Whatever it takes to catch whoever did this." Marcus could feel the other cop come in behind him but chose not to turn around.
"You said previously that you were very close to both the deceased and her husband. How close would that be?"
"Best friends. Equally close to them both," Marcus said.
"Were either of them having an affair?"
"You're crossing the line." Marcus wanted to choke the cop for bringing up such a stupid question.
"We just need to ask," Dance said from behind him. "Where were you when Mrs. Quinn was shot?"
"I told you before, next door in my garage, about to head out to dinner. I heard the shot and came running."
"Anyone with you?"
"No, but I was on the phone with my girlfriend, who's in California for the weekend, which you can verify."
"What kind of relationship did Nicholas Quinn have with the deceased?" Shannon asked.
"Her name is Julia," Marcus said, abruptly, trying to keep his anger in check. "They were as close as could be, more in love now than the day they married."
"Were either of them emotional?"
"Not really. In fact, they're both pretty even-tempered." Marcus couldn't refer to her in the past, he couldn't get used to the fact he'd never hear her voice again.
"If that's the case, why would he kill her?"
Marcus didn't answer, as he thought he had misheard the question.
"Why would he do it?" Shannon continued to pressure Marcus. "Can you think of any reason, money, jealousy?"
"There is absolutely no way Nick killed her," Marcus said. "He would never raise a hand to her, let alone shoot her."
"Well, some things suggest otherwise," Dance said as he held up a large clear plastic bag. Inside was a large, impossibly elegant pistol, something that looked to be owned by a king or a sheik. There was a hammered-gold plate on other side of the stock. The handle was made of ivory, inlaid with jewels. "Any idea why he would be keeping such an expensive weapon in the trunk of his car?"
Marcus stared dumbfounded at the sight. He'd never known Nick to own such a gun. "That can't be his."
Without a word, Dance put the plastic-encased pistol in a box and turned back to Marcus.
"Despite your doubts," Shannon said, "I think he did it. If he has an attorney, I would suggest that you call him, because I'm going to interrogate this guy until he admits what he has done. And believe me, after a day like today, I have no time for lies."
Marcus stared at the cop and suddenly remembered why he had come over. He looked at the detective in his too-tight shirt and jeans and thought him an asshole. He looked at his right hand but saw five fingers, five complete fingers.
"It's Detective Dance, right?" Marcus