Free 4 The Marathon Murders by CHESTER D CAMPBELL Page B

our
license number. The call was made around one-thirty.”
    “Did he think we would tell him
what we knew about Kelli?”
    “I’d say that’s exactly what he
thought, stupid bastard.”
    “Greg!”
    She didn’t care for my four-letter vocabulary.
Seven letters, either. “Sorry, babe. But that’s the
most descriptive term I have for him. Though I guess I shouldn’t talk ill of
the dead.”
    “Right. But it still doesn’t tell us anything about his interest in Kelli, does it?”
    “No. Let’s check the other
message.”
    This one was from TBI Agent Wayne
Fought. He left a cell phone number where I could reach him.
    “What do you suppose he wants?”
Jill asked.
    “Probably for us
to come in for a formal statement. I’d better give him a call before
Jarvis and Kelli get here.”
    Fought answered on the third ring, and I identified myself.
    “I need to come down to Bureau
Headquarters in the morning. I want to see what the crime lab boys have come up
with on that Jeep. I need you and your wife to meet me over there and give us a
statement.”
    “Sure. What time?”
    “How about eleven o’clock?”
    “We’ll be there. Did the wound on
Bradley’s head appear consistent with a blow from the walking stick in his
living room?”
    “I’m not at liberty to discuss the
investigation at this point, Mr. McKenzie.”
    “Did you find anything at Bradley’s
house that looked like those Marathon Motors papers we mentioned?”
    “No, but I can’t tell you any more .”
    “Think about it, Agent Fought. A
little discussion between us might prove quite fruitful. There’s a good
possibility of a tie-in with Pierce Bradley’s involvement in this case we’re
working in Nashville. Cooperation could benefit us both.”
    “We’ll talk about it in the
morning,” he said and hung up.
    I had just relayed his request to
Jill when Jarvis and Kelli walked in wearing solemn faces.
    “Cheer up,” I said, strolling over
to give the colonel a pat of encouragement. “I think
Phil Adamson is going to push this thing as purely an accident.”
    “That’s not what’s borthering me,” he said. “I was against it, but Kelli
insists if you’re going to be our advocate, we should level with you.”
    I frowned. “What the devil does
that mean?”
    Kelli spoke up. “I’m the one who
made the tackle that killed Mr. Sharkey, not Warren. He took the blame in an
attempt to keep my name out of it.”

Chapter 12
     
    They took chairs as I perched on the edge of my desk.
“Frankly,” I said, “I wish you hadn’t told me. I may be a personal advocate,
but not a legal one. There’s no client confidentiality that would stand up in a
courtroom.”
    “I’m not concerned about that,”
Kelli said. Her face showed the strain of an agonizing decision. “You and Jill
have put forth a lot of effort on this. I want to keep everything above board.
If there is anything else you’d like from me, just say the word.”
    “I think I can speak for both of
us,” Jill said, leaning forward on her desk. “We really appreciate your
feelings, and we’ll let you know if anything comes up where we could use your
help.”
    I just hoped Phil Adamson didn’t
ask me anything else about the episode on Blair Boulevard. I didn’t want to
cause our clients any more problems, but I would have to answer with the truth
if questioned.
    “Detective Adamson told us this
Harold Sharkey character was a private investigator,” Kelli said. “Is there any
way to find out who he was working for?”
    “No. That’s something Phil wanted
to know, too, but he won’t likely find out.” I moved around to sit at my desk.
“Are you sure this couldn’t have any connection with your work?”
    She gave me a you ’ve-got-to-be-kidding
look. “The kind of people I have to deal with rely on
their own resources. They don’t hire PI’s.”
    “Just thought I’d
ask. Now, I hate to bring up more bad news, but you won’t be getting a
visit from Pierce