Bonita Palms by Hal Ross

Author:Hal Ross [Ross, Hal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TitleTown Publishing
Published: 2019-11-02T22:00:00+00:00

24

February 28

I was more at peace with myself after my trip to Chicago. On the drive home I’d had a good deal of time to reflect, I was determined to resolve the issues foremost on my mind; priority one being Sara. I cared about her and wanted to get to the bottom of what I’d done that upset her the night I slept over. Priority two was my working relationship with Hank Broderick. Unless I found a way to iron out the differences between us, the murder investigation would suffer, and that was something I couldn’t afford to let happen.

However, my good intentions where Broderick was concerned already faced a major obstacle. Weeks ago, at his behest, I began interviewing various servicemen who worked at Bonita Palms. Men that he had preselected for me, not as suspects but possible witnesses.

For instance, Gino Scapillati, the fifty-year-old service director with Excalibur Service, who spent twenty percent of his time at the Palms and eighty percent in neighboring communities such as Shadow Wood, Highland Woods, and Spanish Wells. And Fran Bailey, a forty-five-year-old technician with Broad Connections, in the business of solving computer problems, be they Mac or PC.

The list continued, from Manuel Garcia, gardener, to Cecil Rowe, pool specialist. All the men had come in voluntarily and none had seen anything suspicious or the least bit out of the ordinary.

I remembered all of them. And they were back. Each and every one. Broderick had ordered me to conduct this second round of interviews, and it irked the hell out of me. It was all to saddle me with grunt work; bog me down with minutia—keep me out of the way—out of the real investigation so that Broderick could take all the credit should an actual lead be uncovered.

I continued with the interviews, but my heart wasn’t in it. At noon I headed out of the building to take a long lunch.

* * *

I returned at 2:00 PM to find another group of familiar workers lined up outside my office. I confronted Broderick a few doors down and let him know I was on to his game.

“What’re you talking about?” he feigned innocence.

“Give me a break! I interviewed every one of those men a few weeks ago!”

“So?” he said, unable to hide a grin. “I’m just trying to be thorough.”

“You’re wasting my time, damnit. These men don’t know anything. Yet, you dragged them in here twice. For what?

“I told you.” His expression turned smug. “We have to be meticulous. Leave nothing to chance.”

“And we accomplish that, how?

“By doing what you’re doing.”

“Bullshit, Hank. Find another grunt,” I said, then spun on my heels, exited his office and headed home.

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