Murder at the Courthouse Read Online Free PDF Page A

worry and hope. A bank robbery would be almost as exciting as a murder.
    Hank shot Michael a look without giving any sign of a wink, but the wink was there. He turned back to Paul. “Do you think this could all be a diversionary tactic, Officer Osgood?”
    â€œYou mean somebody may have planted the body here just so the bank would be unoccupied?” Paul glanced up the street nervously. The trees on the courthouse lawn hid the bank on the next block from view. “Maybe I should send somebody up that way.”
    At times, Michael wouldn’t spoil the editor’s fun, but today wasn’t one of those times. A murder was no joking matter, whether they knew the victim or not. “Nobody’s going to rob the bank, Paul.”
    Paul caught on then and glared at Hank. “I have more important things to do, Mr. Leland, than play games with you.”
    â€œYou’ve got me all wrong, Officer Osgood. No game playing here.” Hank widened his eyes and adopted an innocent look. “A good newspaperman has to be ready to follow up every potential lead in a story, no matter what the odds are of it amounting to anything. Some of our best stories are uncovered in that way. I’m sure it’s the same with you. You can’t afford to ignore even the smallest clue, right?”
    Paul looked mollified. “If you have any questions about the case at hand, I’ll be glad to answer them for you.”
    Michael left Paul at the mercy of the editor and began easing around the crowd, telling everybody to go on back to work or home since the show was over.
    Buck Garrett fell into step beside Michael. “What’s Osgood telling Leland?”
    â€œNothing but the facts, I’m sure.”
    â€œFacts.” Buck spit on the ground. “Osgood wouldn’t know a fact if it jumped up off the ground and smacked him full in the face.”
    â€œWhat are the facts, Buck?” Michael asked.
    â€œThe John Doe is Caucasian, about fifty years old. No ID on his body. No cell phone. A cheap department store watch. No rings or signs that he had been wearing rings. Small change in his jacket pocket, a roll of bills in his pants pocket. Two twenties on the outside, the rest ones. Clothes clean. Nice crease in his pants. Shoes shined. Colored his hair with that comb-in stuff. Shot at close range with a small caliber revolver. Maybe a Smith & Wesson or a Ruger. Probably by someone he knew. Shot in the back. Might have powder burns on his jacket. Must have staggered around a step or two and then landed against the pillar before he slid down there and stopped breathing. Three, four minutes maybe. Or not that long.”
    Michael was impressed by Buck’s recital and a little embarrassed he hadn’t noticed as much when he looked at the corpse.
    Buck saw Michael’s surprise. “I know what to look for, Mike. I’ve been a state trooper a long time. Going on twenty years now.”
    â€œBut I wouldn’t have thought you’d handled many murders.”
    â€œNot here in Hidden Springs, but something’s always happening somewhere in the state. I keep up, and you know how we are. Always talking cases.” Buck looked closely at Michael. “How about you? You see murders up there in Columbus?”
    â€œSome, but I didn’t have much to do with them. I was just a beat cop,” Michael admitted. “Found a few bodies. That’s all.”
    â€œAnd now you found another one. What’d you think when you came out on the steps and saw the stiff?”
    â€œI don’t know, Buck.” Michael paused, considering the question seriously, even though Buck wasn’t expecting a serious answer. “I was surprised, I guess. And sorry. Especially sorry.”
    â€œWhat’d you have to be sorry about? You didn’t shoot him, did you?” One corner of Buck’s mouth lifted up in a smile.
    â€œI didn’t shoot him, but somebody