The Constantine Conspiracy by Gary Parker Read Free Book Online Page A

her. Neither, of course, did she mention the fact that she’d switched the knives.
    “I couldn’t stop Carson,” she explained simply as Luisa led the group to the bedroom where Steve Carson’s body lay. “I threatened him, pursued him. But he beat me to his vehicle, headed East.” All that was true; not a lie in any of it.
    The cops stopped outside the room and faced Luisa to question her, but she shook her head and looked terribly confused. “No Englais,” she said insistently, “no Englais.”
    Momentarily giving up on her, they ordered her to stay put, then turned to Shannon again, and she led them inside the room.
    Russell, the eldest of the cops, took the lead as they looked over the room. “Need some boys from Helena to take a look at all this,” he said as he slipped on gloves and moved around the scene. “They’ll bring in all the gizmos, tag and bag everything, all that fancy stuff. This is way past what we can handle in Wolf Creek.”
    Shannon pointed them to the computer and the three-word statement on the printout.
    “What you reckon that means?” Russell asked Baker, pointing to the words.
    “A puzzler for sure,” Baker said, looking at the printout without touching it. “But looks like a deliberate drug OD to me. We got a needle and a note, no signs of an intruder. Expect this place is videoed, right?”
    “The knife is a little odd though, don’t you think?” Shannon asked. “What kind of person does that to himself?”
    Russell studied the hand wound for several seconds. “Who can figure rich folks?” he asked, a touch of disdain tinting his tone as he moved back to the desk. “They do all kinds of foolish things.” He tugged on the desk drawers but found them all locked.
    “So what do you think?”
    “Above my pay grade to think much of anything,” Russell said, taking off the gloves and scratching his nose. “But if it is foul play, I’d bet on the son—maybe a dispute, money or something. The kid injects the old man with the drugs, then uses the knife for some kinky reason only his therapist can figure. I’d sure like to talk to that boy, that’s what I’d like to do. Too bad you couldn’t keep him still till we got here. You say he left in a Hummer, just drove away?”
    Shannon almost mentioned Rick’s weapon but again refrained. Although she had no reason for it, she sensed something good in him. A fault of hers, she knew, always looking for the best in people, always believing in a person’s virtues more than their failures. But she couldn’t help it. Her personal experience told her that no matter how low a person sunk, they could mend their ways if they wanted.
    Baker’s walkie-talkie squawked, and he clicked it on and walked out of the room to answer. Russell raked his eyes over the scene once more, then shook his head and left with Baker. Shannon waited behind, her instincts telling her that something—she couldn’t figure what—was left undone. She checked over the desk once more but saw nothing new, so she paused and stood over the body. What happened here?
    Poor Steve Carson, she thought. No matter how he died, he didn’t deserve it; so senseless, so violent.
    Shannon started to leave, but Luisa suddenly entered the room, a finger to her lips, asking for quiet. “Here,” she whispered, handing Shannon a tiny key. “I remembered this. Mr. Carson gave it to me two, three weeks back, said if anything happened to him I should give it to Rick, but Rick’s gone so I . . . you deliver it to him.”
    “Did Mr. Carson tell you what it unlocked?”
    “No, just said give it to Rick.”
    Acting on a hunch, Shannon peeked past the door, heard Baker and Russell down the hallway but out of sight. “How’d you get past them?” she asked Luisa.
    “Come up back stairs.”
    Shannon nodded, then quickly grabbed the key and rushed to the locked desk drawers. She slipped the key into each drawer in succession and each one opened. The first three were completely