Botched 4 Murder by J.C. Eaton

Author:J.C. Eaton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“What if it’s not Milquist driving that golf cart?” I asked as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed east on Meeker Boulevard.

Marshall chuckled. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

The Harlans’ house was situated in the middle of a cul-de-sac off Deer Valley Road, the newest phase of the development. And not only that, but they lived in one of the ritziest sections, known for spacious yards, boulder and waterfall features, and houses that boasted stone veneers. I couldn’t take my eyes off the place. “Guess the family timber industry left them well off, huh?”

“Yep. I suppose. The house even has a separate golf cart garage. If Milquist did drive directly back here, he must’ve arrived only a few minutes before us. I’ll knock on the door and see. No sense both of us getting out of the car.”

Marshall walked to the front door. Sure enough, Milquist was home, and Marshall waved for me to join him. Oddly enough, Sorrel’s husband didn’t seem too surprised to see us.

“The sheriff ’s department left a note on my door asking me to call them. I was about to do that when you rang the bell,” he said. “Does your visit have something to do with their note?”

As soon as Marshall said yes, Milquist invited us in, but not farther than the foyer. Marshall explained the entire incident with Myrna’s golf cart and seemed to study Milquist’s face for a reaction. If he had one, it had to be as subtle as hell.

“So, you understand,” Marshall went on, “that the sheriff’s department and my office are concerned that whoever killed your wife might have you in their sights as well. I’m sure the sheriff’s department will explain further when you call them.”

Milquist proceeded to chew off a piece of fingernail all the while staring at Marshall. “I don’t know what else they can explain, unless they plan to provide me with security. Are they going to do that?”

“Unfortunately, I rather doubt it. I know they had deputies at your wife’s memorial service, but that was a one-time thing. Have you received any verbal or written threats? Anything at all that made you feel as if you were a target?”

“No. Nothing of the sort.”

Marshall took a quick breath while I tried to be discreet about glancing into the rest of Milquist’s house. The foyer opened up into a sitting area, but nothing seemed out of place, and there was no sign of Marlene Krone. Maybe she had already driven back to Albuquerque.

“Mr. Harlan,” I said, “was there a particular reason you went to the lawn bowling and bocce tournament parade today?”

The man looked as if I’d asked him to divulge national security information. “Er, well, it was on Sorrel’s calendar since she was a member of the board, and, well, I don’t know, I guess I figured maybe I’d run into someone who might have information about her death. Stupid thing. I know.”

“Actually, it might’ve been a dangerous thing,” Marshall said. “Crowds and all.

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