Santa Fe Rules Read Online Free PDF

pulled up to the intercom box and pressed the buzzer.
    A moment later, a voice said, “Yes?”
    Wolf took a deep breath. “Mark, it’s Wolf.”
    There was a long silence.

    “Mark, it’s Wolf. I’m not dead, I’m at your front gate. Let me in.”
    Another silence, then a loud electronic beep, and the electric gate slid open. Wolf drove quickly down the long drive. The compound was set on sixty acres, a quarter of a mile from the road; the house was dark, but a light burned in the little building next door, which Mark used as an office. As Wolf drove up to the building, an outside light came on, illuminating the Porsche. He got out, and as he reached the front door, it opened.
    Mark Shea stood just inside, a tall, bearlike figure, looking warily out. Then his face collapsed in astonishment. “It is you, for Christ’s sake.” He stepped forward and gathered Wolf into his arms. The two men embraced for a longer moment than usual, then Mark held him at arm’s length. Tears were streaming down his face. “And I thought I was never going to see you again.”
    The tears didn’t surprise Wolf; Mark was an emotional man, and he had always wept when moved—happy or sad. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mark,” he said.
    Mark pulled him into the room. “I expect you need a drink,” he said.
    “That I do,” Wolf replied, looking around. The room was paneled in oak, with bookshelves, floor to ceiling, along a long wall. The furniture was leather, masculine, welcoming.
    “Can I force some bourbon on you?” Mark asked, reaching for a bottle in a concealed liquor cupboard.
    “You can.”
    Mark handed him the drink, and his hand shook; he poured one for himself. He motioned Wolf to a chair in front of the fire, then took the one facing him. “Now,” he said, “tell me what’s happened.”

    “Christ, Mark, I don’t know what the hell’s happened. I thought you might.”
    “Of course; stupid of me. I confess, your showing up has rattled me to the core.”
    “I’m sorry about that, but I guess there was no way to avoid shocking you.”
    Mark smiled. “Nicest shock I ever had, believe me. Do you know anything at all?”
    “Only what I read in the New York Times this morning.”
    Mark nodded. “Then you know the worst. About Julia and Jack, I mean.” He looked into the fire, his craggy face sad. “I’m glad, at least, that I didn’t have to tell you that. I’m awfully sorry, Wolf. I know how much you loved them both.”
    For the first time since all this had started, Wolf lost control; he sat in the big chair and sobbed.
    Mark leaned forward, slapped a big hand onto Wolf’s knee, and squeezed. “Go ahead, man, you need to grieve.”
    Gradually, Wolf got hold of himself. “Do you know anything more about this?” he asked.
    Mark fell back into his chair. “I got a call from the police a little after ten Wednesday morning, asking me to come up to your place. They wouldn’t tell me what was going on, just said to get up there. When I arrived, the place was crawling with Santa Fe cops, deputy sheriffs, and the state police. They had obviously been there for a while and had been through the place thoroughly. The Santa Fe District Attorney, Martinez, took me aside and told me what had happened. Your maid had already identified the bodies, but he asked me to confirm. God, I hated doing that.”
    “I saw the room,” Wolf said, and took a big gulp of the dark bourbon.
    “You’ve been to the house?” Mark asked, alarmed.

    “I just came from there. For that matter, so did somebody else.”
    “What do you mean, somebody else?”
    “There was somebody in the house while I was there. I never got a look at him; he left in a hurry.”
    “A policeman, maybe?”
    “Maybe. It didn’t seem like a policeman; more like a burglar. Go on. What happened next?”
    “Martinez took me into the room, shooed the photographer out, and pulled back the sheet. It was…” he took a swig from his glass,