4 The Marathon Murders by CHESTER D CAMPBELL Page B

arms around her, and gave her a
monstrous kiss.
    She leaned her head back and
grinned. “That was an off-duty kiss if I ever experienced one.”
    “You’re right, babe,” I said,
pulling her closer. “Duty is only skin deep. We’ve got lots more pacifying to
do.”

Chapter 14
     
    Thursday morning’s paper carried the story of Harold
Sharkey’s death, but not on page one, thank the Lord. We had been saved by
major coverage of problems with TennCare , the state’s
medical insurance program for the poor and uninsurable. Quotes from Homicide
Detective Phillip Adamson indicated the fatal wound appeared to have been
accidental, the result of a fall during a scuffle. Kelli was identified as a
witness, but only as the granddaughter of Arthur Liggett. The reporter’s
attempts to reach her and Col. Warren Jarvis for comment were unsuccessful. The
nursing home declined to permit an interview with the retired hospital
administrator, who was described as “needing rest.” According to the news
story, police speculated Sharkey had gone to the Liggett home as part of an
investigation, though no one had any idea what it might have involved. He
appeared to have made a threatening move on Kelli Kane. The reporter came up
with little background on Sharkey, except for neighbors who said he rarely
socialized with anyone and came and went at all hours of the day and night.
    “You made out about as well as
could be expected,” I told Jarvis when he called before we left for the office.
    “I guess so, but I’m sure the
general won’t be too happy about it.”
    I laughed. “Making generals unhappy
was something I excelled at. Of course, it doesn’t do your career a lot of
good, as I found out.”
    Getting crossed with a B-52 wing
commander fairly early in my OSI days resulted in my retirement as a lieutenant
colonel, instead of achieving bird colonel status like Jarvis. The wing
commander later became the Air Force Inspector General, who was overseer of the
OSI.
    “Thanks for your help on this,
Greg,” Jarvis said, his voice solemn. “Without you, I’m sure things would have
gone a lot differently, and we would be facing a lot more trouble.”
    It was the most touching thing he
had said since his arrival. I was only sorry I couldn’t have done more,
particularly where Kelli was concerned. The newspaper story had gone easy on
her, though. Hopefully, she hadn’t been compromised.
    “Hey, no problem,” I said. “If I
had been around there, I’m sure I’d have done the same thing Kelli did.”
    “You think so?”
    “Back in my pre-Air Force days,
when I was a deputy sheriff in St. Louis County, I once got in trouble for
using too much physical force. Bruised a bunch of knuckles in
the process, too.”
    His voice lightened up. “I’ve had a
reputation for being pretty scrappy myself. But not in my
early days. My dad was a stern disciplinarian and kept me on a short
leash. After I left home, things changed. I learned a lot about bumping heads
while playing football at the Academy.”
    “Let’s hope you don’t have to bump
any more around here.”
    “Amen.”
    “I don’t know what it’s going to
take to get to the bottom of this Marathon business, Warren, but we need to do
it as soon as possible. We’ll check back with you later this morning.”
    Jill and I headed for the office a
few minutes later. As soon as I finished shifting the daily trivia about, I
called the Chamber of Commerce and inquired if Craig Audain had returned. No luck there.
    Jill usually answered the phone,
but she was back in the supply room when it rang a little later.
    “Mr. McKenzie, this is Camilla Rottman ,” said a cultured voice. “I’m with the Nashville
Symphony League. Your firm is a valued part of our community, and I would like
to come out and talk with you about becoming involved in furthering the
development of Nashville’s artistic excellence.”
    “We already contribute to the
symphony, Miss, uh…is it Miss Rottman