Cavanaugh Cold Case Read Online Free Page B

interest in the matter was speed, and that he couldn’t care less about any sort of resolution as far as solving the crime went. The abrupt cessation of work was costing him a considerable amount of money for each minute that went by, and not only was money the bottom line, apparently as far as Harrison was concerned it was the only line.
    â€œYour bulldozer can also crush a lot of those bones beyond recognition,” Malloy told him before Kristin could speak up.
    In his estimation, Harrison was clearly a Neanderthal type, and anything that the medical examiner had to say, Malloy knew, wouldn’t carry any weight. There was no point in having her hit her head against a brick wall.
    â€œIt’s not like they’re exactly a pretty sight right now,” the frustrated nursery owner snapped.
    â€œMr. Harrison, the less time you spend standing here, talking and tying us up, the faster this’ll go and the faster you’ll be able to get back to building up your nursery,” Malloy pointed out. “Now, if you really want to talk, that’s great,” he continued cheerfully. “I have plenty of questions I’d like to ask you.”
    At this point, the scowl on Harrison’s face was going clear down to the bone. Second-guessing the detective’s question, he snapped, “No, I didn’t kill anybody.”
    The smile that flashed across Malloy’s lips was entirely superficial and empty. “That’s very reassuring to know, Mr. Harrison, but that wasn’t going to be my question.”
    â€œOh.” Harrison looked somewhat taken aback. “Well, what was it, then?” the nursery owner asked, trying not to look flustered.
    To get out of the medical examiner’s way—and possibly on her good side—Malloy began to inch his way up the incline, leading the nursery owner back toward the uninviting trailer. “How did you come to be the owner of this property?”
    Following the detective, Harrison looked at him as if he were simpleminded. “The usual way. I bought the damn thing.”
    â€œFrom?” Malloy asked, attempting to coax more information out of him.
    Harrison’s expression grew even more condescending as he looked at the man asking him these questions. “The person selling it.”
    Malloy blew out a breath, trying not to let his temper get the better of him. This wasn’t anything new. He’d dealt with idiots before. “I need a name, Mr. Harrison. Who sold you the property?”
    Harrison stopped walking. “My lawyer handled it. He dealt with some long-time employee who worked here. The guy was acting on behalf of the owner.”
    The man was definitely a challenge to his patience, Malloy thought. “I still need a name, Mr. Harrison.”
    â€œI don’t have a name,” Harrison snapped irritably. “I already told you. My lawyer handled all that. He does all my transactions.”
    â€œAll right, then I’ll need his name,” Malloy said, the calm timbre of his voice belying the way he really felt about this verbal square dance.
    Part of him would have felt a certain amount of satisfaction if he could have discovered that Harrison was behind these murders. He made a mental note to investigate the man’s background and his general whereabouts twenty years ago—although he would have been very young at the time.
    â€œFine,” Harrison bit off. “I’ve got his card in that tin can of an office up there.” He waved his hand contemptuously toward the trailer.
    â€œLead the way,” Malloy said amicably, fairly certain that Harrison wasn’t aware that he was being led up to that trailer already.
    Harrison frowned at the former owner’s living accommodations. “First thing in the morning, I’m having that piece of junk hauled off and getting a real RV set up in its place until I can have a building erected.” He aimed a penetrating glare at