Body Slam (The Touchstone Agency Mysteries) by Burns Rex

Author:Burns, Rex [Burns, Rex]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2014-02-10T16:00:00+00:00

15

Julie punched in the telephone number. A child’s breathless voice answered the second ring with rehearsed politeness and a note of triumph. In the background, another piping voice wailed, “Mama—it was my turn!” When the woman came on, Julie introduced herself.

“What can I do for you, Miss Campbell?” Her voice sounded slightly puzzled.

“We haven’t heard from you for over a week, and we wanted to be certain everything’s all right.”

Ms. Morgan tried to answer, but the wailing voice continued until a hand was placed over the receiver. Her voice came back. “I’m sorry, Miss Campbell—Sydney’s upset because her sister went out of turn answering the phone.”

“Please call me Julie—and may I speak with Sydney?”

The girl’s small voice said with hesitant excitement, “Hello?”

“Hello, Sydney. Are you being a good girl?”

She answered yes, and Julie asked a few more questions: age, four; sister’s name, Jessie. Did Jessie go to school? Yes, she was in the first grade and Sydney was in preschool. “You speak very nicely on the telephone, Sydney.” When her mother came back, she complimented Julie on her skill with children.

“Sometimes it’s easier when they’re not one’s own.”

“Do you have children?”

“No—nor any plans for. Have you had any problems with Mr. Chertok? Any hints or questions from him about meeting with Mr. Raiford?”

“No… . Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing at this end. But I would like to ask you a few more questions. Would it be convenient if I dropped by this evening? After Sydney and Jessie are settled in bed, of course.”

A pause. “What type of questions?”

“Mr. Chertok, his acquaintances. Visitors to the office in the last couple of weeks—that sort of thing.”

“I don’t know what I can tell you that’s new.”

“Perhaps something that doesn’t seem important to you might tie in with something we’ve turned up.” Julie added before the woman could object further, “Would you prefer to meet me away from your home? We can do that.”

“No—babysitters are always a problem. Especially on short notice. And I don’t often go out at night.”

“Suppose I come by around nine. Will the girls be in bed by that time?”

“Yes.”

“Fine—I’ll see you then.”

Nothing like bulldozing one’s way in. Julie swung around a curving lane between clusters of town houses that, the small trees and uniformly clean-looking paint said, had recently come on the market. Caitlin Morgan’s home, like the others, was a pod of four units that shared back walls and faced away from each other for privacy.

Large commons areas of grassy lawn spread between the clusters and were divided by curving concrete walks. The whole complex backed to a park that, in the distance of evening, showed lit tennis courts with a few players and a playground with no one. Streetlights glowed soft orange over distant intersections, and the gathering dusk made the shrubbery turn into shadows that led up to the homes like secret avenues.

Caitlin Morgan welcomed Julie into the quiet—and quietly decorated—home. Open walls and low dividers helped the living and dining areas seem larger than they were, and a staircase led up to the bedrooms on the second floor.

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