The Fourth Motive Read Online Free Page B

if Mr Altman can be interrupted.”
    A moment later another voice came on the line. “Gene? That you?”
    “Yes, Sandy, it’s me. If I called at a bad time–”
    “Hell no, Gene. I’ve instructed my secretary to tell everybody I’m always in a conference;
     that way, I can screen the deadbeats. What can I do for you?”
    “Sandy, I have a favor to ask. It’s personal and important.”
    “You name it; heaven knows I owe you.”
    “You owe me nothing,” the Judge replied. “But I have a serious problem. Somebody is
     stalking Paige. She was attacked this morning.”
    “Oh my God; is she all right?”
    “She’s all right for now, but this stalker is a real psychopath. He beat her up and
     shot her in the head with some kind of a toy gun. She believed at the time it was
     a real gun and she was going to be executed.”
    “Paige must have been petrified,” Altman said. “Was it a random thing?”
    “Apparently not. The bastard called her by name and said something menacing about
     meeting again.”
    “The cops have any idea who this dude is?” Altman asked.
    “Not a clue.” The Judge paused, carefully choosing his next words. “Sandy, I can’t
     sit on my hands waiting for the police. We both know how that usually works out. Not
     when Paige’s life is at stake.”
    “I understand. You think this creep is going to make another try?”
    “I don’t know,” Callen said. “I’m not going to take the chance.”
    “I wouldn’t, either,” Altman said. “What can I do?”
    “I need your help. I want you to reach out to somebody for me. One of your friends.”
    “Just give me the name, Gene,” Altman said, “and I’ll have him on your doorstep.”
    “I want to meet Bob Farrell,” Judge Callen said.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
       

CHAPTER 5
     
     
    “Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” Bob Farrell said.
    “May the Holy Spirit visit you and fill your heart with contrition,” the priest’s
     paternal voice responded through the confessional partition. “How long has it been
     since your last confession?”
    “Twenty years or more,” Farrell reluctantly admitted. “Johnson was in office. It was
     before I shipped out to Vietnam.”
    “The Catholic church welcomes you back,” the priest said. “You may begin your confession.”
    “I’ve done something pretty bad,” Farrell began after a moment. “I’m not sure I’m
     ready to confess it yet.”
    “The sacrament of confession is a powerful thing. You’ll feel better after you unburden
     yourself of your sins.”
    “If you say so,” Farrell said. “Well, here goes; I broke into somebody’s house today.”
    “That’s a very grievous sin,” the priest acknowledged.
    “You don’t know the half of it,” Farrell quipped. “It was your house.”
    “My house… What kind of a sick joke is this?” the priest demanded.
    “No joke, Padre,” Farrell said. “You are Father Mulroney, aren’t you?”
    “I am,” came the hesitant reply.
    “And you live in the rectory behind this church? Your roommate is a fluffy white cat?”
    “How did you know that?”
    “It was your place I burglarized, all right. Don’t worry about the cat; I locked it
     in the bathroom so it wouldn’t get out.”
    “Who are you?”
    “I thought my confession was supposed to be confidential?”
    “I’m not going to stand for this,” the priest announced. He tried to exit the confessional
     booth but found he couldn’t budge the door.
    “I wedged a chair under the doorknob before I entered,” Farrell told him, as he listened
     to Father Mulroney rattle the confessional door in a futile attempt to get out. “I’m
     afraid you’re not going anywhere.”
    “You filthy thief,” Mulroney said. “Let me out.”
    “Don’t you want to hear the rest of my confession?”
    “I do not. But I’m sure the police will.”
    “The San Francisco police are already on their way.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I called the cops