Free Last Ditch by G. M. Ford Page A

your
busy lives to be here with us today."
    Emily
Price
Morton spoke for the first time.
    "I
arranged the room merely as a courtesy. To be quite frank, I am unable
to
imagine any profitable purpose to this meeting."
    "I
had
hoped—" Pat began.
    She
cut him
off. "You hoped to sweep this matter under the rug is what you hoped,
Mr.
Waterman."
    Pat
stayed
calm. "I had hoped . . ." he repeated, "... that perhaps we
could reach some sort of accord as to how to keep this unfortunate
incident
from affecting our lives and the lives of our loved ones any more than
is
absolutely necessary."
    McColl
jumped
in. "What Mrs. Morton means to say . . ."
    "Be
quiet,
Henry," she snapped. She fixed Pat with a granite stare. "Mrs. Morton
said exactly what she meant, Mr. Waterman. My family and I intend to
see blame
properly ascribed and justice administered. We have lived with the pain
and
uncertainty for nearly thirty years. We intend to see this matter
through to
its conclusion, no matter what the cost or to whom."
    She
turned her
stony gaze my way. "I hold you no personal animosity, young man," she
said. "And I have no wish to foster the sins of the fathers off upon
the
children, but my family ..."
    My
turn to
interrupt.
    "What
sins
would those be?"
    In
my
peripheral vision, I could see Pat stiffen and raise himself to his
full height
along the seat back. "What Leo means to say . . ." he began.
    I
kept my eyes
locked on hers. "Leo said what he meant to say."
    She
curled a
perfectly lined lip at me. "You can't be serious. My brother's remains
were
found in your father's yard. What other conclusion could possibly be
drawn?"
    "I
seem to
recall something about people being innocent until proven guilty. And,
with all
due respect, Mrs. Morton, I don't recall my father even being charged
with
anything, much less convicted."
    The
looks on
everyone's faces suggested that they were waiting for lightning to
strike me
dead. I figured, you know, what the hell so I jerked a thumb at Mark
Forrester
who was sitting on my right "Although I can certainly understand how
you
might have come to that conclusion if you've been reading that
sensationalist
piece of fish wrap these guys have the gall to call a newspaper."
    The
kid was
smooth. "The Post-Intelligencer has complete confidence in the veracity
of
its sources and the quality of its reporting."
    "That's
because you don't say anything," I said. "You imply; you infer, you
stick things that have nothing to do with one another in the same
paragraph
together and let the readers do the rest."
    "I
didn't
come here to debate the merits of the press, Mr. Waterman." He began to
rise.
    "Please,"
Pat entreated. He pressed down on the table with his palms as if it
were about
to take flight and then shot a glance over my way. Forrester settled
back into
his seat. "Leo and I and the rest of the Waterman family want nothing
more
than a speedy resolution to this unfortunate matter. Like everyone
else—"
    H.
R. McColl
cut him off. "I'm not sure Leo is on board with you on that one,
Pat."
    Pat
folded his
hands and arched an eyebrow. -   "How
so?"
    "As
I
understand it, last night, only hours after the discovery of the
remains, your
nephew refused to cooperate with the authorities."
    Being
talked
about as if I weren't in the room was beginning to chap my hide, but I
kept my
temper.
    "What
do I
have to cooperate about?" I asked evenly. "I was twelve years old
when Peerless Price disappeared. Except for the past few months, I
haven't
lived in that house for over twenty years. What could I possibly know
that
would be of use?"
    For
the first
time McColl addressed me directly. "So you did indeed refuse to
cooperate?" "Big as life," I answered.
    Two
COPS, ONE
big, one little, one rumpled, one neat. Naturally, I knew the big
rumpled one.
Frank Wessels and I went way back. Oh yeah. We'd detested each other
for decades.
For a while, in the tenth grade, I'd dated his younger sister Jean. He
was a
big nasty bastard about ten years my