An Indecent Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

manner. “Terry’s a good driver. Shows up on time, does whatever I ask him.”
    Karl tentatively labeled the manager, whose name was Douglas Madsen, as a smoker with a Type A personality, the kind of person who finds it difficult to sit still. At the moment he was shifting from foot to foot, clearly wanting to be somewhere else, and his thin face appeared anxious.
    “I won’t keep you long, Mr. Madsen,” Karl said reassuringly. “Just a couple more questions, if you don’t mind. Has Mr. Noonan been doing much driving lately?”
    “Lately? Nope, we’ve been real slow. None of the guys has had much work.”
    “How about on the weekend?” Karl asked. “Was he driving for you then?”
    “Hell, no. This weekend just past? No. Today’s his first job since Tuesday. He was joking about it this morning. Said that if I didn’t get him some more jobs, he’d have to go somewhere else. Least I think he was joking.” Madsen suddenly appeared thoughtful.
    “Do you socialize with him, Mr. Madsen?”
    “Socialize?”
    “You know,” Karl said. “Like, go out for a drink after work? That kind of thing.”
    Madsen snorted. “Nope. First, I don’t like him enough to go drinking with him. He drives good but that don’t mean I want to drink a beer with him. And second, he’d rather be off with a woman.”
    “He’s married though, isn’t he, Mr. Madsen?”
    A wary look came over the manager’s face. “Yes, he’s married. Least I think he still is. He and Sarah have been separated for the best part of a year now.”
    “Do you know Mrs. Noonan then, Mr. Madsen?” asked Karl.
    “I know her, yeah, but not well at all. That’s to say, if she walked into this yard just now, I’d recognize her. Good looking woman.” The manager was looking fidgety by now. “Look, I gotta go. Anything else, ask Terry – he’ll be back any time.”
    “Thanks, Mr. Madsen. I’ll just poke about a bit while I’m waiting, if that’s okay?”
    The manager just waved a hand at him as he hurried away.
    Karl located Terry Noonan’s locker but there was nothing for him to see as it was locked. The employee part of the office building consisted of a vending machine, a small table, a few chairs and some lockers. Karl supposed that when your employees spent ninety-nine percent of their time somewhere else, you didn’t need to worry much about décor.
    Terry Noonan himself showed up a little later. Through a small, grimy window, Karl watched him park his rig. The name “Terrible Terry” was lettered on the cab with a picture of what looked like a wolverine. Karl let him drop off his paper work before approaching him by his locker.
    “Mr. Noonan? Detective Karl Wesson, York Police Services. May I have a word with you, please?”
    Like most of the people Karl met, Terry Noonan immediately got a guilty look on his face. “Me? What for? I haven’t done anything. You can ask Doug, I keep my logs all up to date. Never had a problem with them.” Noonan was a stocky, well-built man, with powerful shoulders and well-developed arms. Karl estimated him to be about six feet tall, two hundred pounds. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a red golf shirt and dirty blue jeans, tight around the crotch. He had a rather rounded face, dark, wavy hair, and a couple of days’ stubble on his face.
    “It’s nothing to do with your job, Mr. Noonan,” Karl told him. “Let’s sit down here.”
    Seated at the table across from Terry Noonan, Karl broke the bad news. “I’m afraid it’s about your wife, Mr. Noonan. She was reported missing Saturday morning. Yesterday a body was discovered at Hillsdale Park. We think it might be your wife.” There was never an easy way to say this kind of thing, Karl thought. He usually just said it as quickly and kindly as possible.
    “Sarah? Sarah’s missing? You mean she’s dead?” Noonan was staring at him. He seemed quite shocked.
    “We think it’s her, yes. Her friend – Lynnette Cranston – supplied