Dust Up: A Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

dinner and stayed.”
    “Where does Brian live?”
    She let out a sigh. “He lives in Torresdale, near the river. But he’s out of town.”
    “Oh. Does he know about…”
    “Yes, he knows. It crushed him. Devastated him. He said he needed to go away, to process it.”
    “He left you here on your own?” I had a hard time hiding my surprise.
    Her left eyebrow twitched the tiniest bit, like she was having a hard time hiding her reaction, as well, but that was as far as she allowed herself to show what she thought. “Just for a day or two. We all deal with tragedy in different ways, Detective.”
    I hadn’t been the best son in the world, but I couldn’t conceive of pulling something like that.
    “Ron and Brian were seven years apart,” she said. “They’d always been quite close, but they used to butt heads a lot too. The last few years, though, perhaps due to Miriam, the political differences that used to antagonize them seemed to fade, or maybe they just realized those things aren’t important enough to get between brothers. Anyway, this past year, I’d seen them become closer. Brian is devastated.”
    “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
    She sighed again, smoothing a wrinkle from her skirt, trying not to look annoyed. “In a day or two.”
    “Could you give me his address and phone number? I’d like to talk to him as soon as possible.”
    She paused for a moment, then sighed. “If you must.” She got up and went to a small sideboard, wrote his information on a pad of paper, and tore off the top sheet. Before she handed me the paper, she put her other hand on my arm. “Promise me you’ll be gentle with him.”
    I nodded, and she handed me the paper.

 
    12
    A block away from Dorothy Hartwell’s house, I pulled over and called Brian Hartwell. His voice mail picked up, and I left a message asking him to call me back. I was just merging onto the Schuylkill Expressway, headed back into the city, when he did.
    “Is this Detective Carrick?” he asked, his voice tense, like a piece of wood bent to the breaking point.
    “Yes. Is this Brian Hartwell?”
    “Yeah. Sorry I missed you earlier. Reception’s not so good up here. I seem to be in a good spot now, though.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Lebanon. Just hiking a couple miles of the Appalachian Trail. Clearing my head, you know?”
    An asshole in a BMW zipped around me doing ninety, cutting me off and flipping me off at the same time, somehow without putting down his phone. “I’m actually on the highway. Do you mind if I call you back in twenty minutes?”
    “You can try, but I doubt you’ll get me. I could try you back tonight maybe or tomorrow. I’ll be home in a day or two.”
    I didn’t want to put off the conversation, but I needed to take notes. “I can’t get to my pen and paper. Do you mind if I record our conversation?” I had an app on my phone that let me record phone interviews onto a cloud server. It had become increasingly handy for long interviews with witnesses.
    “Um … no, I guess not.”
    “Hold on one second,” I said. I opened the app and began recording. Not the best behavior on the road, but I felt better knowing I wouldn’t miss anything. “Okay, still there?”
    “Yup.”
    “So tell me about Ron and Miriam. Were they happy?”
    He sighed. “Yeah, they were happy. As happy as anyone is happy. I’ll tell you one thing—Miriam absolutely, one-hundred-percent certain, guaranteed did not kill my brother. And no offense, but from what my mom tells me, your pal Detective Warren is a bit of a dumbass if he doesn’t understand that.”
    I checked the phone to make sure that was recorded. “I see. You introduced Ron and Miriam, is that right?”
    “Yeah. Ron got me a job at Energene a few years ago. It didn’t last long, but that’s where I met Miriam. Ron’s a bit of a bigwig there. Miriam and I were peons.”
    “Are you two still close?”
    “Pretty close, yeah.”
    “Has she called you?”
    “No. I