Fifth Son Read Online Free PDF Page B

with the Pettigrew place?”
    Green didn’t reply, reminding himself that it was Sullivan’s case and he ought to let him decide how to play it. Sullivan chose to play it casual.
    â€œWho’s handling the sale of the church? Your firm?”
    Fitzpatrick’s face fell. “Oh no! That’s a firm from Ottawa. I used to list that place, but...no one’s been able to sell it.”
    â€œBut you can access the key if you have a client. You have the combination to the lock box, right?”
    â€œWell, I can get it. We can all get it. But I hardly ever show it. People want waterfront properties, not a musty old rock pile in the middle of town.”
    Green glanced around the office. Despite the country clutter, it sported the latest in electronic gadgets. There were no pictures of wife and children, but Fitzpatrick clearly loved his expensive outdoor toys. Snowmobiles and four-by-fours were everywhere, and one photo showed him posing with a friend in front of a sleek, white motorboat, holding up a fish that must have been three feet long. Slimy-looking thing, Green thought with distaste, but the two men were grinning from ear to ear.
    â€œI guess the waterfront business has been good to you, Mr. Fitzpatrick,” Green remarked.
    â€œPlease, call me Sandy. Good investment, in today’s times. People are snapping it up all over Ontario. If you detectives are interested—”
    Sullivan stepped in to head off the sales pitch. “What can you tell us about the Pettigrews?”
    Sandy looked startled at the sudden change, then his face took on a regretful air. “What can I say? Sad, sad situation. The great-great-grandfather hacked the farm out of the wilderness himself back in the early eighteen hundreds, and his grandson built that brick house in the 1890s. Raised dairy cattle, owned the creamery here in town, had the best stud bulls in the county. Now they’re all gone, and the farm’s been bought by a civil servant from Ottawa, who’s not going to raise a single head.”
    â€œWhat can you tell us about the more recent Pettigrews?” Sullivan asked. “Did you know them?”
    â€œOh yeah, everybody knew them. I went to school with the Pettigrew boys, and the adjacent farm is still in my family, thank God. What do you want to know for?” His jaw dropped. “Oh my God, was the dead man a Pettigrew?”
    â€œWho’s been living there recently?”
    â€œJust—just the old man. And Robbie off and on. He’s the youngest. There were five boys, so it gets confusing. But all the others...well...”
    â€œDo you know where the others are?”
    Sandy stared across the table at them in silence, his hearty façade quite gone. “If you think one of them is the body in the churchyard, I want to know, because they used to be friends of mine.”
    Sullivan laid the photo on the desk without a word. Sandy stared at it fixedly, his colour slowly draining from his face.
    â€œHoly crap,” he muttered. “What a mess.”
    â€œCan you recognize him?”
    Sandy wagged his head back and forth helplessly. “It might be one of the boys. It’s hard to tell from this, and I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
    â€œHave you got their current addresses? Or any idea where they are?”
    Sandy’s eyes strayed to the photo again, and he stared at it in bewilderment. “When I was growing up, they were a happy family. Religious and strict, but happy. I used to love to play over there. But they’ve had more tragedies than any family was ever meant to bear—one by one they left home, until in the end all that remained was Robbie and his father.”
    â€œCould this be Robbie?”
    Sandy shook his head firmly. “Robbie’s much younger than the others. In his late twenties, I’d say. But I haven’t seen any of the others since they were in their teens or early twenties, so it’s