Free A Time for Secrets by marshall thornton Page A

movie and didn’t budge until Johnny Carson came on. Then we moved into the bedroom.
    All in all, it was a pretty nice night.
    § § § §
    The phone rang and I stumbled out into my living room buck-naked. When I picked up, Detective Patrick Haggerty was on the other end. He worked out of the Town Hall district, and we’d run into each other before.
    “I need you to get your ass down here, Nowak.”
    I didn’t particularly like being ordered around. The fog of sleep was beginning to clear, and I realized that it was seven in the morning. The sun was shining bright, and, if they cared to, my neighbors could peek into my windows and see me standing there in the all together.
    “What’s the problem, Haggerty? You need someone to wipe your butt?”
    “We found a guy named Vernon Taber shot to death in his living room. We also found your business card sitting on his coffee table. If you don’t get down here and tell me everything you know about this I’m gonna figure you had something to do with it.”
    I was out the door in less than five minutes. Haggerty wanted me at the Town Hall station, which was only a few blocks from my apartment. I figured I’d get there in about an hour or so.
    First, I wanted to get my hands on Ronald Meek and find out what the hell was going on. Had he somehow figured out Vernon’s address? I’d let him know Vernon was in the phone book. Had he suddenly remembered Vernon’s last name and gone over and killed the man? No, I couldn’t believe Ronald would kill poor, pathetic Vernon. Or at least I hoped he hadn’t. I had the queasy feeling I might somehow be responsible for Vernon’s death.
    Ronald’s apartment was two blocks north and one block west from mine. I practically ran over there. I buzzed the intercom and waited. Nothing. I could have rung the other buzzers until someone let me in but I didn’t want anyone to know I was there, and this early in the morning they’d be sure to remember me. If Haggerty found out I’d seen my client before talking to him there’d be hell to pay.
    Walking back out to the sidewalk, I found the pass-through to the back of the building. Old, rickety wooden stairways clung to the back of the brick building. I climbed up to the second floor and figured out which was Ronald’s backdoor. It wasn’t difficult. The door was standing open.
    I walked into a small, rudimentary kitchen. Nothing looked wrong in there. I called out Ronald’s name and waited. When he didn’t answer, I continued into the apartment. A short hallway led to the bathroom at one end and a dining room at the other. After taking a quick glance into the bathroom, I headed to the dining room. The dining room was at the front of the apartment; to my right was a door leading to the small bedroom. Years ago, Ronald had dropped potatoes from the dining room window onto Daniel’s and my attackers. Now, the room stood empty and quiet, as did the bedroom.
    The living room was connected to the dining room through a wide arch. I stood in the arch and there between the dingy sofa and the stacks of tabloid newspapers lay Ronald Meek’s body face down on the dirty rug with his knees bent. There was a small hole in the back of his head but no blood anywhere on the floor. You didn’t have to be an expert to figure out he’d been shot with a small caliber gun and died quickly. I looked closely at his head and saw that the side of his forehead was now misshapen. The bullet had enough force to enter his skull but not to exit. That’s what small caliber guns do.
    This was an execution-style killing. The shooter had made Ronald get on his knees, then gotten behind him and shot the old guy at close range. I couldn’t help but think how horrible those last few minutes of Ronald’s life must have been. Somehow knowing death was imminent seemed worse than simply dying. I guessed, when it was my turn, I hoped to be taken by surprise. To be crept up on and—
    The thought gave me chills. I told myself