The Silent Hour Read Online Free PDF

the TV. Weather report. Can't
miss that.
        "Hot,"
he said when he finally clicked the television off and turned to me.
"Unusually hot for the first week of May."
        "I
know it."
        "Going
to be a rough summer. You can always tell."
        Everyone
else was rejoicing that winter had finally broken, and this guy was bitching
about the summer to come. Cheerful. He sat and stared at me without much
interest. Maybe fifty years old, small face with slack jowls and sleepy eyes.
His tie was loosened, and his jacket was off.
        "I
was just explaining to your secretary that I found you through a tax
record," I said. "I'm curious about some property, and when I pulled
the records I found your office handled the payments."
        That
was all it took to wake the sleepy eyes up. They narrowed and focused, and he
pushed away from the desk and ran both thumbs down the straps of his
suspenders.
        "What
exactly is your line of work, Mr. Perry—"
        I
took out a business card and passed it across the desk to him. He looked at it
long enough to read every word three times and then read them backward. Finally
he set the card carefully on the desk and kept one hand on it while he looked
back up at me.
        "This
is about the Cantrell house."
        I
nodded.
        "Who
are you working for—"
        Here
I hesitated, for the obvious reason. Parker Harrison's name hadn't meant
anything to me until he'd taken to writing letters, but Child was a good deal
older and more likely to remember a murderer from that era than I was.
        "Someone
who's interested in the property," I said after a beat of silence.
"It's a damn expensive home to leave in that condition."
        "I
take it you've trespassed out there and seen the place— Don't worry, I'm not
going to report you. Plenty of people have trespassed there before. It's a damn
headache, that house is, and for as little money as I've made off the
arrangements, I wish I'd never agreed to it."
        He
was warming up to me now, waving his hand around while he talked, looking more
relaxed.
        "You
put up the gate," I said.
        He
nodded.
        "At
the Cantrells' request—"
        A
hesitation, as if I'd asked something odd, and then, "No, not exactly. I'd
been out to the house a few times and saw that there'd been some vandalism. 'I
he sheriff called me to complain, because they'd had to go out there on several
occasions and break up groups of drunk kids wandering the grounds. Word got out
that the place was empty, and the kids immediately found their way to it. You
know how that goes. Then there was a hitchhiker who found it and moved right
in, had some insane idea about claiming squatter's rights. Sheriff was
irritated, so I went ahead and put up the gate and the fence. It's
helped."
        "You
paid for this—"
        "I
draw from an account she left. The money was there." He pulled himself
back to the desk again, frowning, and said, "Mr. Perry, you clearly don't
want to tell me who you're working for and why they want to find her, but I
need to tell you this: Any number of people do want to find her, from the
police to reporters to people like you, and I can't help. All I ask of you is
to make that clear lo your client. I don't know how to get in touch with her; I
don't know where *he is or what she's doing."
        "Mr.
Child, I don't understand exactly why she'd be so sought after. Who is the
woman, anyhow—"
        He
looked at me as if I'd asked him how to spell my own name. Then his eyes turned
reflective and he nodded. "Your client's interested in the property."
        "That's
right." It wasn't true, really, but I had the sense that was what he
wanted to hear as some kind of reassurance.
        "So
you have no idea… shit, you guys really are clueless. Okay. That puts me at
peace. It truly does."
        "What
don't I understand, Mr. Child—"
        "Anything,"
he said. "You don't understand