4 The Marathon Murders by CHESTER D CAMPBELL

Bradley.”
    “Why not?” Jarvis asked.
    “Mr. Bradley is no longer with us.”
    “You mean—”
    “He’s dead,” I said with a nod.
    They looked at me in shock. Kelli
recovered first. “How?”
    I told them about the Jeep in the
lake, what we had learned from Pierce Bradley’s sister, our visit to Bradley’s
house, and the information Sheriff Driscoll had given us concerning the former
A-10 pilot.
    “Jeez. Sounds like any number of
people could have wanted to do him in,” Jarvis said.
    I gave a dismissive wave of my
hand. “That was my initial reaction. But there’s still the issue of the missing
papers. Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but my instinct says this is all tied
together somehow. The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation is handling the murder
case. Jill and I are meeting in the morning with Agent Wayne Fought.”
    Jarvis looked at me with renewed
interest. “Will he help you look for the Marathon papers?”
    Jill spoke without a trace of
humor. “I think he’d like us to fade into the sunset.”
    She was right, but I thought it
best to put a little more positive spin on things for our clients’ benefit. “I
hope we can convince him there’s a link in our cases. It would sure help if we
had something more tangible to go on.”
    I saw Jill glance up at the clock
across from her desk. “I move we adjourn this discussion to a nice restaurant
across the parking lot. It’ll soon be eight o’clock.”
    “Damn.” Kelli grabbed her handbag
off the floor and stood. “I promised Grandpa I’d come back over there and fill
him in on what we’d learned. I’m going to omit the part about Harold Sharkey.”
    “Good idea,” I said, standing
behind my desk. “Don’t forget Detective Adamson’s warning to stay out of sight
if you want to avoid the media.”
    “I’ll check into the motel where
Warren’s staying. You have my cell phone number if you need me.”
    “I plan to keep a low profile,
too,” Jarvis said. “That’s what the duty officer I talked to advised. I haven’t
been able to reach my immediate superior yet. I think I can arrange to take a
few days leave when I explain the situation.”
    After they left, Jill and I were
gathering up our things to head home when the phone rang. I checked the Caller
ID, saw the newspaper identified and let the answering machine pick up.
    “Hey, Greg,” said Wes Knight’s
voice. “I didn’t expect to find you in, but give me a call when you get this
message. A reporter turned in a story about an accidental death out beyond
Hillsboro Village. And guess what? That woman you asked about was identified as
a witness.”
    Jill just looked at me and shook
her head.

Chapter 13
     
    After a full day of dashing back and forth across the countryside,
alternately baking in the sun and chilling out in the air conditioned depths,
Jill begged off the promised “something good” concoction for supper. We stopped
at the restaurant across the parking lot and dined on their seafood special.
Before getting to the main course, I had a sudden thought and called Kelli’s
cell phone. She had arrived at the nursing home a few minutes earlier.
    “Just so we can rule out everything
else,” I said, “how about asking your grandfather if he’s had any major
disagreements in the past, something that might prompt a retaliatory trashing
like you found today.”
    She hesitated a moment. “Are you
suggesting it could have been a spiteful act rather than the work of untidy
snoopers?”
    “Not likely, but possible.”
    “Very well. I’ll ask. If I learn anything, I’ll call you at home.”
    I snapped the phone shut and waded
into a large helping of grouper with a savory sauce.
    “Quite good,” I said, brushing my
lips with a napkin. “But not nearly as good as what you’d have fixed, I’m
sure.”
    Jill gave me a skeptical look.
“After a day of slave-driving, you’re trying to butter me up, huh?”
    I chuckled. “I told you some days
it would be like this. Then