Death in Her Eyes (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

ahead. “I think someone’s trying to put the screws to you. Pardon my French, sir.”
    The general waved my concern aside and said, “Go on.”
    “What’s your son say?”
    “Never mind that for now,” the general replied. “Tell me about the notes. What do they tell you?”
    “The paper is common, twenty-pound multiuse bond probably, nothing special. These cut out letters have a shine to them and there’s some weight to the paper. I’d say they were from a glossy magazine, maybe a women’s fashion, or art magazine.” I paused, but the general didn’t ask a question. “Whoever is behind this,” I continued, “is probably watching you. They knew about the camera. They didn’t care if you found out who did the delivery because they used a local kid who wouldn’t know anything useful,” I replied. “What’s it all about, general? I’ll help you but I have to know what’s going on.”
    “Who said I need help?” he shot back. His dark eyes flashed with heat and emotion.
    His eyes flashed down and to the right. His pupils dilated despite the deep shade. Now he was lying. I could see it plain as the nose on his face, only I saw the lie in his eyes and the twitches around his mouth.
    “You called me and …”
    “And I asked you to tell me about these notes.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze bored in on me again. He was trying to read me. He didn’t realize that was my game. I could see fear in his eyes and he wasn’t a man used to fear. He hid it well. He was afraid, afraid for his family and himself.
    This is just what I need, terrific! “Thank you for the tea, General Hunt. It was a pleasure to meet you. I should be getting back to Orlando,” I said as I got up.
    “I can pay you whatever you want,” he said.
    “If I had a dollar,” I replied, “for every time I needed the dollar, I’d never need a dollar. Thanks for the tea.”
    “Hold on, hold on,” the general said holding up both hands in surrender. “I like to be in charge. Too long in the army, I guess.”
    “Sir, I know a little about your military career. You were a good cop. The MPs still talk about your Nha Trang serial killer investigation.”
    “How do you know about that? You weren’t an MP.”
    “No sir, G-2, an interrogator” I replied, “but you knew that. That’s why you called me, isn’t it, sir.”
    “Your assessment of these messages, what do they tell you?” the general asked, his tone softening a bit.
    I took a deep breath, suppressed a weary sigh, and began, “Kidnappers and blackmailers more often than not use a computer printer. Printers are so generic any more that unless there’s a major flaw, the font is more or less untraceable, except for the printer’s type, brand, and in some cases the model. Notes in well-known cases like Son of Sam or the cryptograms left by the Zodiac Killer or Unabomber Ted Kaczynski’s manifesto were hand written, or typed on a typewriter. There are other examples. None of these cases had cut out letters pasted onto a piece of paper. I’ve only seen that in movies. Your mastermind is an amateur. He or she is teasing you with minimal information and may or may not know something damaging to you or your family. The glue or the glossy paper’s surface could have fingerprints. That is if no one has handled it to much. It should be possible to determine which publication uses this paper and print type. If we find magazines, well, a good lab could match the paper. Is that what you were looking for?”
    I was about through with the general’s game, no matter how much he wanted to pay me.
    “Was sure you’d be sharp.” General Hunt said, “even if you are a little rough around the edges. Sharp and that you’d know about my background and have a quick handle on the situation.”
    “I know your background, a little about your family and that you are the wealthiest man in the area, if not the state. Sir, if you called me all the way out here to play twenty