The Dolomite Solution by Trevor Scott Read Free Book Online

know.”
    â€œThanks. I will.” He hung up and sat there for a moment staring into the dark corner of the booth. What in the hell was Murdock up to in Austria? Or was he simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Jake didn’t think so. He believed in coincidences, but not those with such precarious circumstances. He and Murdock had served together in the same squadron in Germany. Made captain at the same time. Gotten out of the Air Force around the same time. Something wasn’t right here, and Jake knew it. He needed to go back to the alley.
    He went out and drove off.

    By the time Jake parked his old Beemer along the Inn River a few blocks from the famous Golden Roof, the snow that had fallen the night before was working its way into a slushy mess. In a few hours the snow would be just a few puddles, which is one reason Jake liked Innsbruck. The snow stayed in the surrounding mountains where it belonged.
    He walked down a narrow lane, along worn cobblestone, with the buildings on both sides six stories high, and the morning light not even close to peeking down through.
    The bells from a church nearby clanged ten times, and Jake was thankful he was starting to feel better. His head still hurt from the blow, but at least he had managed to find a few aspirin in his glove box, which he sucked on now. His head should have had stitches. Instead, he guessed someone at the funeral parlor had simply slapped a butterfly bandage on his scalp. Jake wore a baseball hat backwards to cover his thick, dark hair.
    Trying to get his bearings in the maze of streets and alleys, he finally settled on an extremely narrow passage that seemed to curve up ahead. He walked forward cautiously, as if he were entering sacred ground. There’s always a strange curiosity with a location that someone is murdered. It’s as if the person’s soul is watching over the place waiting for someone to desecrate it so they can haunt them forever.
    As he reached the corner, he slowly looked around it, and then made a cursory glance behind him.
    He stopped short. It was the place. Only he had entered from the other direction last night. It’s funny how things look so much more innocuous in daylight. There was a dumpster five yards in front of him, the one by which he had found Allen Murdock already dead. The other one, where he had crouched, was further up the alley another ten yards or so. Beyond that the alley shot straight out to the road, and the river beyond that. On the other side of the river was a little park.
    Jake smiled. He was set up big time. He stepped back to the corner again, aimed his arm as if he had a gun in it, and checked the trajectory. Someone could have stood at the corner, kept him at bay with the silencer, and then waited for his return fire, moaned in place of the victim, and then scurried off like a rat down the back way.
    But why? That’s what kept running through his mind.
    Then he had an idea. He went over to where he had been behind the dumpster, aimed again where he thought he had actually fired, and walked back along that path until he reached a brick wall near the corner. He scanned the wall carefully until he saw them. There were two chips in the brick over six feet up. Nice grouping.
    â€œWhat are you doing there?” came a loud voice from behind him.
    Jake turned to see the large man who he suspected knocked him out just hours ago. The man was wearing wool pants and a thick gray sweater that made him look even bigger than he was, which was a hell of an accomplishment given his considerable girth. Even more remarkable, Jake realized, was how he had let someone so big sneak up on him, despite his near-drunken state. Jake moved toward the man, who was now standing broadside in the middle of the alley with his club-like arms dangling at his sides like an orangutan.
    Before Jake could say anything, the man said, “You’re the man from last night. The man who shot another man in my