Tarot of the Archons (Immortal Montero Book 2) by Greg Mongrain

Author:Greg Mongrain [Mongrain, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kindle Press
Published: 2016-10-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Sunday, January 25, 9:02 a.m.

Hamilton stood outside the station when I drove up. He opened the door, a manila file in his hand.

“Where to?” I asked him as he buckled his seat belt.

“Let’s start with the last customers to interact with Cavanaugh. Spent some time with Karen last night putting together a list of the people who made special purchases from her father.” He tapped the folder. “This is everything records could dig up on these people.”

“How far back did you take the purchases?”

“Six months,” he said. “And we have a whopping two people.”

“At least we can check this angle quickly. What’s the plan?”

“Simple. We interview them, ostensibly about their furniture acquisition from Cavanaugh’s, and try to find out if they know anything about him that might help us find his murderer. Who knows? Maybe one of them bought an expensive piece of furniture and thought Cavanaugh charged an exorbitant amount.”

“So they killed him?”

“It would not be the first time money prompted a murder.”

I did not laugh, though the theory was thinner than a magazine model. I could tell Hamilton didn’t believe it, either. But it was necessary to run down every lead.

“Who’s our first stop?”

“Jason Parmalee,” he said, glancing down at the folder he had opened on his lap. “Did a short stint in the army,” he said slowly, reading, “and was honorably discharged after two years. No explanation.” He flipped through more pages. “Made his living as an insurance agent for one of the big companies, pulling down six figures a year. The bling came from a series of shrewd investments. He’s sixty-two now, retired for ten years and living in Beverly Hills.”

“The American dream.”

“Yeah,” he said. He turned to the next page. “Hm. This Parmalee guy is sort of a weirdo.”

“Uh-oh. Weird how?”

“You know, Sebastian, I wish I had that calm demeanor down pat like you. You didn’t even sound mildly worried when you asked me that.”

“You still knew, so I guess I wasn’t as casual as I thought.”

“Your act is perfect. I just know you better.”

Yes, I thought. And I was getting to know him very well. I liked being with him and looked forward to any time we could get together. He was important to me, and I cared what happened to him.

That was not good for me.

On another note, I have often wondered how the brain computes the timing for such decisions. For instance, was it ever late? Was Hamilton actually a close friend a week ago, and I just didn’t think of it? Or is it only real if I do think of it? Recognizing for the first time that a song is my favorite is the same. I hear it and suddenly know it’s my favorite song—but I wonder if it was really my favorite song a couple of days earlier.

What can I say? You have to think about something when you’re a sleepless immortal.

“This Parmalee likes to be called colonel, or sir,” he told me.

“I thought you said he was only in the army for two years.

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