Death in the Secret Garden by Forrest Richard;

Author:Forrest, Richard;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2016-05-17T04:00:00+00:00

Ten

Rocco drove the cruiser with his usual one-handed grip. He flipped the notebook from his breast pocket. ‘Read that list of Ashley’s customers again while I phone the lab about those ballistics.’ Lyon went through the list line by line while Rocco made his call. ‘What’s the ballistics match for the specimen we sent over today?… OK, thanks.’ He abruptly ended the call. ‘The slug is damaged. They can’t make a positive match with the other two.’

‘Then we could have a copy-cat murder,’ Lyon said.

‘That’s a possibility. Maybe we had better have another look at Congressman Bill Tallman’s autopsy report. It’s possible that someone just might have wanted Ashley out of the way.’

‘That’s going to stir up more hornets for Bea.’

‘Can’t be helped. The good canon’s on Ashley’s list, isn’t he?’

‘A similar name,’ Lyon answered. ‘I can’t believe the canon was dallying with our departed redhead. M. MacIntire certainly does not stand for Canon Mead MacIntire of Saint James Church.’

‘This could be a first,’ Rocco said. ‘A sexually crazed, bird-watching canon.’

‘Who’s a serial killer?’

‘That seems to be what we’ve got here.’

‘How many victims does it take to make a serial killer? We have three, do we go for four?’

‘That isn’t funny.’

‘Then stop the nonsense about the canon. One simple way is to ask him if he knew Ashley.’

‘That has to be done, although it would be a hell of a lot more politically expedient if you did it.’

‘Look at the good news. Spook wasn’t on Ashley’s list,’ Lyon said.

Rocco grimaced. ‘I doubt that he’s capable of performing after his years of substance abuse.’

Lyon laughed. ‘What desk clerk would let him in the lobby, much less allow him on an elevator to go up to a room?’

Rocco slowed the cruiser as they exited the bypass and drove toward police headquarters. They passed the green with its gazebo and hanging tree. He turned right at the Congregational church.

‘Oh, my God!’ Rocco said as they neared the police services building. ‘Look at that.’

An assortment of vehicles clogged the street. A television van squatted directly in front of the building. It extended its microwave tower and slowly rotated it toward Hartford. The logos on two other cars marked them as belonging to the Hartford Courant newspaper and Channel Seven. Other vans and sedans were not so readily identifiable. A disgruntled group of men and women milled around the sidewalk in front of the building. Jamie Martin, a nightstick clutched across his chest, barred any entry.

‘Whatever number it takes to make a serial killer,’ Rocco said, ‘I believe we have reached it.’ He pulled the cruiser in the drive and drove around to the rear of the building. They entered through the back door. Their hope for a quiet sanctuary in Rocco’s office was shattered when he opened his door. ‘Jesus H. Christ,’ Rocco said.

Lyles Stanton, the town’s First Selectman, had expropriated Rocco’s desk. He immediately clasped his drumming fingers together as he looked expectantly at the chief.

Lyles, an allstate insurance agent, had run unsuccessfully for elective office five times before his surprise win.

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