Free 4 The Marathon Murders by CHESTER D CAMPBELL Page A

course, but probably won’t find anything.”
    A scrupulous record keeper, I had
no idea how you could run a PI shop any other way. The guy either had a great
memory or a penchant for writing fiction.
    Phil aimed his finger like the barrel
of a pistol. “You realize when the newshounds see the PI angle, they’re gonna jump on this like pups in a frenzy. You’d better see
that Miss Kelli gets lost for a few days. We’ll want them both available for
further questioning, though.”
    I got up from the table. “Shouldn’t be any problem. Jarvis is assigned to the Defense
Intelligence Agency at the Pentagon. He’ll have to report the details to them,
and I’m sure they won’t be too happy. But accidents happen.”
    “Yeah. You’d better hope the DA sees it that way.”

Chapter 11
     
    Phil had called for a wrecker to haul Sharkey’s car off to
the tow-in lot. As soon as he left, I suggested Warren and Kelli get their cars
away from Blair Boulevard and meet us at our office. On the way, I told Jill
about my conversation with Adamson.
    “Sounds like you did a pretty good
job of defusing the situation,” she said.
    “That remains to be seen. You can
be certain Phil’s going to do a lot of digging. And I feel the same way he
does. I’d sure as hell like to know what Harold Sharkey was up to, who he was
working for.”
    “How about this,
Greg? What if whoever was after the Marathon papers hired him to make
sure Kelli was away so they could search her grandfather’s house? Then he came
back to see what else he could learn from her.”
    I nodded. “Good scenario. Of
course, it assumes someone is after the papers, which we have no proof of as
yet. And if they’re the same people who killed Bradley, it would mean they
didn’t find the papers on him or at his house.”
    “ Which means we’d
still have a chance to recover them. ”
    I reached over and patted her knee.
“I like your positive attitude, babe. Let’s try to keep it up when we talk to
our clients.”
    It was well after six when we swung
onto I-40, headed for Hermitage. Rush hour traffic had slowed and the only
bottleneck was perennial construction between downtown and the airport. We
tuned in a weather report, getting the usual August forecast for tomorrow—hot
and humid, possible afternoon thunderstorms. At least for the moment the sky
was being swept blue by a steady southerly breeze.
    “I need to get a little flying time
in during the next day or so,” Jill said. “Anywhere we need to go?”
    I shrugged. “I hope not.” Flying
wasn’t my favorite mode of transportation. I used it when necessary and knew
I’d have one of the best pilots in the business. Still, every time I made it
back to terra firma, I vowed I’d never leave again. Maybe it all stemmed from
my parents’ death in an airliner crash on the way to my graduation at the
University of Michigan. Maybe it’s just some kind of weird hang-up. Anyway, I
preferred to keep my four wheels and my two feet on the ground.
    By the time we pulled into the
parking area, the evening crowds were beginning to pack the restaurants near
our office. I unlocked the door and we headed for our desks. The answering
machine light winked as though burdened with a nervous tick.
    “I’ll check the calls,” I said.
    There were two messages. I played
the first one. It was a real shocker.
    “Mr. McKenzie, I’d appreciate your
giving me a call. This is a fellow PI., Harold
Sharkey. We’ve never met, but I’ve heard good reports about you. I’m sure you’d
be happy to give a little professional courtesy to another investigator. I have
a question about your interest in a certain woman visiting here.”
    Jill looked at me with a raised
eyebrow as he rattled off his phone number. “Did I just hear what I thought I
did?”
    I pressed the repeat button.
    “How did he know about us?” she
asked.
    “I’d guess he came by Liggett’s
house while our car was parked in the driveway around noon. He checked