Barry Friedman - Dead End Read Online Free Page A

thought for a moment. “No, the other
secretaries actually left a few minutes earlier. Mr. Bost had gone home at
around four-thirty.”
    Maharos said, “Do you open all your boss’s mail?”
    “Yes.”
    “Have you at any time seen anything that might be
considered a threatening letter?”
    She shook her head. “No, not life-threatening.
He’s had several letters from clients who were unhappy about one thing or
another.”
    “For example?”
    “Well, two or three wrote that they thought his
fee seemed too high for the settlement they received. He wrote back or called
each one and explained that the state Industrial Commission prescribes the
amount.”
    “Do you remember who they were?”
    “Not off the top of my head. But I can look
through the files and get the names for you.”
    “I’d appreciate it. Any other unhappy people?”
    She thought for a few moments. “I recall one man
who sounded angry, complaining about the small settlement. He accused Mr.
Horner of not pleading his case hard enough. I can get the correspondence out,
but I know Mr. Horner got the maximum allowable in that case.”
    “Can you get his file for me?”
    “Yes, but it won’t be much help. The man died. He
had black lung disease. I guess even the maximum isn’t enough for something
like that.”
    Maharos nodded.
    “Nancy, do you know anything about Mr. Horner’s
social life?”
    She slipped a cigarette from a pack she held, lit
it and shook her head as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. Uh-oh. She needed time.
“Very little. He handled any social calls himself. Mrs. Horner kept their social
calendar.”
    “How well do you know Mrs. Horner?”
    “She’d come down here once in a while. I guess
four little children kept her pretty busy at home.”
    “Did you and your husband have any social
relationship with the Horners?”
    “Ex-husband. No, I never saw the Horners
socially.”
    “Or Mr. Horner alone?”
    She frowned. “Mr. Horner was a married man,
Detective.”
    “You understand why I have to ask these
questions, even though I know they may be embarrassing. The only way we’re
going to find out who killed Mr. Horner is to know as much as possible about
the man. In a homicide investigation, sometimes people try to hide things from
us because the truth may be painful. But sooner or later we find out, and it
saves time to know from the start.”
    She nodded. “Oh, of course, I understand.”
    “So, do you want to answer my last question?”
    “Did I go out with Mr. Horner? No, our
relationship was entirely professional.” She blew a cloud of smoke and jabbed
out the cigarette in an ashtray.
    Maharos stood up. “Thank you. I may be calling on
you again in the next few days if anything comes up, if I need answers to any
other questions.”
    “Certainly, any time.”
    Nancy Taylor led the way out of the office.
    In the blue Chevy, Fiala took a plastic envelope
out of the glove compartment. He removed his suit jacket and, from one of its
side pockets, shook into the envelope Nancy’s cigarette butt.
    Maharos watched, grinning. “You didn’t believe
her either?”
    Fiala shrugged. “Like you always say, take no
chances.”

T HREE
    The Horners’ white clapboard, two-story home was
in an upper middle-class neighborhood. Bikes, toy autos, and skateboards lay
scattered on the lawns, basketball hoops projected above many of the garage
doors.
    When Maharos and Fiala drove up and parked in the
driveway, a clutch of onlookers on the sidewalk were gaping at the house A man
in his late thirties, wearing a gray business suit, opened the door partway.
Maharos had his shield case in his hand. “I’m Detective Al Maharos. This is my
partner, Frank Fiala.”
    “I’m Tom Hendricks, Sally’s brother. Come on in.”
    In the small living room, an attractive brunette
sat in the middle of the couch, an arm around each of the little girls they’d
seen in the photograph on Horner’s desk a few hours earlier. The girls’ eyes
were red and