Murder in Focus Read Online Free Page B

“Because I’m actually going to a place on the other side of town, visiting a friend out in the country. Maybe I can let you off right where you’re going.”
    Don looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah? Well, maybe. This is one of them government secret projects like. Yeah, secret projects, you know what I mean?” He burst into a fit of laughter. “Anyway, it’s a couple, three miles th’other side of Carleton Place—near Mooreton.”
    â€œNo kidding!” said Green. “What a coincidence. My friend said his place is just past Mooreton.”
    â€œOne of them places on the river,” said Don enviously.
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe. So which way do we go when we get into town?”
    â€œNaw, don’t go into town. Turn at Highway Seven and I’ll show you where to go from there. This sure beats sitting in that fucking truck,” Don said, looking around with satisfaction at the shiny newness of the car.
    The red Toyota sped through the sunny countryside, moving from highway to paved secondary road to narrower road, and from grassy fields to woods to thickly forested landscape. “This really is in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?” said Green.
    â€œJust about there,” said Don. “Slow down, it’s that left turn up ahead. You can just leave me off there. Keep on to the next crossroad, take a right and then a left, and you’ll be in Mooreton.”
    Green pulled smoothly up onto the shoulder and looked across at a newly paved road that lost itself in the forest. “That’s really something,” he said. “Does it go anywhere?”
    Don’s deep-set eyes studied Green under their half-lowered lids for a few moments. “You’re damned right it goes somewhere,” Don said at last. “You should see the place. Used to be someone’s house, all run-down, like, with a crappy road. Now they’ve gone and done it all up with lawns and flowers and big fences and stuff like that. And that road. The old gravel road ain’t good enough for all the rich bastards coming out to use this place.”
    â€œI’d like to look at it,” said Green, putting the car back into gear and beginning to turn into the road.
    â€œJesus! You can’t do that! The fucking Mounties’ll be all over you. You wanna look at it? I’ll show you where to go.” He gave Green a sly look. “There’s this little path, see, and a place you can leave the car. I’ve been up to look at it lotsa times. It’s a nice place,” he said wistfully. “I’d like a place like that.”
    Green parked the red Toyota on a firm patch of ground behind some bushes and followed Don across the road. He looked back to check on the car and smiled. It had disappeared completely from view. Don was moving quickly along a small path, making no noise at all, apparently completely sobered up. Suddenly he stopped dead and gestured for silence. Then he eased himself back to where Green was standing and spoke directly into his ear. “Got to be quiet as hell. There’s a big path up there where the Mounties patrol. With dogs and all. You get by them and it’s a piece of cake.” He slithered ahead, stopped beside a tree, listened, moved farther, and gestured toward Green to follow. Suddenly they were in front of a chain-link fence looking at an enormous yellow-brick house, standing, mellow in the sunshine, in the middle of sloping lawns. “This what you wanted to see?” said Don in a whisper and stepped back.
    â€œThat’s pretty nice,” said Green. “I don’t suppose you can get in there, though, for a closer look, can you?”
    â€œYou want a closer look?” said Bartholomew vaguely, and looked around him. “If you go up there where that stream is, the fence is broken and you can get in.” The part of the garden they were beside had been left to grow wild, and they