Free Murder.Com by Betty Sullivan LaPierre

down the file and lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair, shoving the shock of wild hair underneath the brim of the fedora.   "Did they happen to notice the cleaned desk?"
          Tom shook his head.   "No, they weren't allowed back into this office after Bud's death."
          Cliff put the folder back into the file cabinet.   "Well, if your theory is right, someone got in here.   They snooped around, then wiped everything down."
          Tom leaned back in the chair and dropped his hands to his lap.   "Wonder what they were looking for?"
          "Ever get those locked files open on the computer?"
          "No.   Got a man coming to do that in the morning."
          "Well, I think you better go pick Mrs. Nevers' brain some more.   Now that we've got a murder on our hands, we've got to find out what happened before his death.   Someone had a bone to pick with him.   While you're doing that, I'm going to get some search warrants."
          Tom raised a brow.   "Oh?   What are you planning to search?"
          "Not sure just yet.   But I want them ready."
          "Okay."   Tom chuckled.   "By the way, I talked with several people at the country club and many saw Bud and Ken there Saturday before and directly after their golf game.   But I didn't find anyone who saw either of them after twelve-thirty that afternoon."
          "Well, so far Ken's story is holding up."   Cliff checked his watch.   "Let's say we meet here at six this evening."
          Tom stood.   "Sounds good."
          After Cliff left, Tom shrugged into his jacket, locked the office and went to the parking lot.   He climbed into his car, whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and placed a call to Angie.
     
    *****
     
          Angie stood looking thoughtfully out the bedroom window after Tom's call.   The letter from Melinda lay on the bed.   She'd reread it several times, trying to figure out what this woman had to tell her.   But her mind remained a blank.   When she saw the Buick crest the hill, she slipped the envelope into her dresser drawer and went downstairs.
          Tom gave her a quick reassuring hug.   "You look good, Angie.   Glad to see you up and around."
          "Thanks.   I decided to get my life back on track."
          He furrowed his brow.   "I hope the questions I have to ask won't be too painful."
          She led him into the study.   "Can I fix you something to drink?"
          "Nothing alcoholic.   I'm on duty."
          Angie opened the small refrigerator under the wet bar, pulled out two sodas, filled some glasses with ice, then joined him on the couch.   She looked into his eyes.   "I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm going to have to answer questions.   Bud's murderer has to be found."
          "I'm glad you feel that way.   I can't stand to see you go through much more."
          She patted him on the knee.   "You're very kind, Tom.   But, go ahead.   What do you need to know?"
          "I want you to think back over the past several months and try to remember anything unusual that Bud might have said or done."
          She frowned and lowered her gaze.
          Tom studied her, feeling she had something on her mind but didn't want to talk about it.   "I don't expect you to come up with anything at this moment.   But I want you to think about it.   And if something pops into your mind, regardless of how small it might be, please give me a call."
          "I'd forgotten about the young intern Bud had working for him this summer.   I think he's already gone back east to school.   But he drove Bud nuts."
          "How?"
          "He had too much energy and wanted to learn everything about the company.   He had his nose in every corner until some of the employees complained."
          "Do you know his name?
      She shook her head.   "No.   I'm sure it's in the records, he got paid.