American Outrage by Tim Green

Author:Tim Green
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Birthmothers, Fiction, Television journalists, Suspense, Thrillers, Identification, General, Human trafficking, Birthmothers - Identification, Espionage, FIC031000
ISBN: 9780446577434
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2007-04-25T08:25:32+00:00

41

THE BODY WAS ALREADY GONE by the time Niko got over to the clubhouse. The somber expressions worn by the police had infected the club’s typically friendly staff. Niko walked through the dining room, watching the commotion out on the eighteenth green through the curving bank of windows. A technician knelt down beside the large bloodstain to take a sample. Niko slipped out the side door and inside the yellow tape that kept the media at bay, and approached the green.

He felt a large hand on his shoulder and looked up at the big blond face that seemed familiar.

“You can’t be in here, sir.”

“I am a member,” Niko said, peering at the name on the uniform, then looking up. “Ron Osinski?”

The cop nodded and his grip loosened.

“Niko Karwalkowszc,” Niko said, touching his own breastbone. “You’re on the other side of the law now. What was it? Shoplifting, I think. Your mother didn’t want you to have a lawyer. ‘Jail,’ she said.”

The cop’s face went red and he let Niko’s arm drop and said, “Mr. Karwalkowszc. Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I’m a member,” Niko said. “I had a tee time at eleven o’clock with a client. I guess not.”

“No,” Osinski said. “I’d say this afternoon but with what we got, you never know.”

“A body on the golf course?” Niko said, wagging his head.

Osinski looked around. Under his breath he said, “They don’t know if it happened here, but this is where they think the head came off.”

Niko sucked in a pocket of air. “Any idea who?”

Osinski shrugged. “They don’t tell us. Not me anyway. It’s the FBI. Someone said something about some Albanians.”

Niko looked in the direction of Osinski’s nod and saw an enormous black man in a well-made dark suit. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans and he was talking to what looked like a detective in a blue blazer and tan slacks.

“Get the paper,” Osinski said in a low tone. “A newspaper guy got a picture last night before they taped it off.”

“I’ll just go back in this way,” Niko said, “so I don’t get you in trouble. My job is to get you out of trouble, right?”

“Sure,” Osinski said, his face flaring up again.

“Tell your mother hello from me,” Niko said. “She must be proud.”

Niko went back across the street. His newspaper waited on the step. Niko went inside. Another police car rolled up the street and pulled into the club. He stood in his living room and opened the paper to the local section. Page one had a three-column picture of the dead man on the eighteenth green. The body was facedown. No head. No hands.

Niko changed into his gray suit. With the local section folded on the front seat beside him, he backed out of the driveway and headed up the hill past the golf course. With such a blue sky and balmy temperature, the fairways were conspicuously empty.

It was less than fifteen minutes to the big house on the farm. He passed the original farmhouse and barn, gray and rotted.

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