Judge Snider’s Folly (A Matt Kile Mystery Book 6) by David Bishop

Author:David Bishop [Bishop, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

21

Carleen opened her front door. Her arm across the bodice of her robe. The landscape lighting behind me was adequate for her to identify it was a man on her doorstep.

She snugged her robe tie, stepped one barefoot onto the threshold, and squinted. “Matt. What are doing here? It’s after one in the morning. You can’t just pop over whenever you feel like it. I mean—”

“We need to talk.”

She flipped on the ceiling light above her head. Her beautiful face became a twisted mask of itself, to the extent that a lovely face can be malformed. The light allowed me to see she had nothing on under her robe.

“My God, what happened? You’ve been beaten. Who did this? Come in here. Let me help.”

I used my hand to wave off her questions, stepped inside and closed her door. She took my hand and led me into the kitchen. I sat, slowly, at the nook table. She tried to push back my hair. Most of it didn’t move. It was gummed in the dried blood on my forehead.

Unless she’s a world-class actor, she has no prior knowledge of my being attacked.

“I want to know what happened. Why? Who would do such a thing?”

“Your brother for one.” Her hand went to her face. “The other guy, I’m pretty sure, was the fellow who works with Dennis Carter at his front business.”

“You know my brother?” She pulled a clean dishtowel from a kitchen drawer and draped it over her shoulder, then turned on the sink water. “How do you know Billy and Dennis . . . and Teddy?” After the water turned warm she held the towel dangling under the stream from the faucet, leaving it to drip into the sink. “I want to know how you know my brother.”

“I’m an investigator, remember.”

“Okay, but?”

“Carleen, I know all about you and your brother helping Carter rob that marijuana depot in Colorado. The FBI knows too.”

“I had nothing to do with that... Neither did Billy.”

I hurt enough to not want to talk more than necessary. I took the handheld recorder I brought from my car, out of my pocket, and pressed play. Putty had not been able to record her second conversation, but I had the first one and it was enough. She rewarmed the towel and wrung it out before turning off the water. She began to wipe my face with the towel while in the background the recorder played her conversation with Carter. The one I taped after following her into the mall a few days before. While listening, she held my hair against the top of my head. Her other hand gently wiped the warm, wet towel down my forehead to soften the blood-glue. She did this around periodic stops to listen. I watched her face. When the tape ended, I turned it off.

“I buy you’re not being involved in the robbery, but not your brother. Billy was part of it. This tape, along with what the FBI already knows, proves it.

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