The Miskatonic Manuscript (Case Files of Matthew Hunter and Chantal Stevens Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

think it’ll take.’”
    Matthew smiled. Worthy got down to business.
    “Matthew, our mutual friend, Les McFarlane, was going to talk to you on my behalf,” he said, lowering his voice a bit. “I’d hoped Imight consult with you about a hard-to-find book that I’m looking for. I understand that’s in your line.”
    “Les did mention that,” Matthew replied. “You’re welcome to stop by any time. You know we’re on Benefit Street?”
    “Yes, maybe you could make sure Bucky here has the address and phone,” he said, again indicating the taller bodyguard. “Maybe tomorrow?”
    “Unfortunately, my office manager has talked me into some kind of TV interview tomorrow at the store, 11:30 in the morning, live at noon, something like that. Says it will be good publicity, the usual. I doubt you’d want to stumble into that and get a microphone shoved in your face.”
    “No, thanks for that consideration. Not ideal.”
    “They should be gone by 12:30, though. You could stop by the store tomorrow, one o’clock or after, or we could do lunch somewhere.”
    “Perfect. Bucky, make sure you get all Matthew’s contact information and then set something up for early tomorrow afternoon, would you please? I’ll hope to see you then, Matthew, looking forward to it. And thanks again, Padre Emilio: Please let Bucky know if there’s anything you need, anything at all.”
    The winning smile, as though waiting for a flashbulb to go off, and then Worthy Annesley was trotting back down the courthouse steps, waving to a supporter, heading for another waiting car.
    Matthew and Bucky traded contact information. The tall and evidently competent bodyguard was worried about any public location, lunch at a restaurant, anything like that. He figured the press would continue to mob his boss wherever he went for at least the next couple of days. Matthew offered the use of his office at the store.
    In fact, Bucky seemed to want to chat. He’d never been in favor of drug use, he said, he’d always considered it a scourge, he wanted to make that clear. But he’d come to the church after the way he saw the justice system treating his own son, his boy from his first marriage.
    “He did wrong, I don’t deny that, and neither does he. He broke the law. He helped haul marijuana. But it all gets sold to willing users. Everyone knows that. My son never robbed anyone, never hurt anyone. He was just the only one who wouldn’t roll over and snitch and turn state’s evidence. All the older guys had been around, they knew how to play the game. So they threw the book at my boy. And now he could spend the next 40 years in prison? Half his life? People spend less time in prison for murder. It doesn’t make no sense.”
    Matthew and Emilio agreed, expressed their sympathy. Seeing that the conversation seemed friendly, a slim, thirtyish woman, nut-brown and with somewhat prominent ears, hesitantly joined them, pressing close to Bucky.
    “Emilio, Matthew, this is my fiancee, Marquita Solana. Go ahead, Marquita.”
    “No,” she said. “It’s not important.” Matthew recognized her, now. She was an occasional customer at the bookstore — the section on the occult and unexplained phenomena. She never talked much. She was pretty when she smiled, though that wasn’t often. And although she was tall and trim, he was pretty sure she was at least half Indian. Native American.
    “Yes it is, honeybunch. These gentlemen are being very nice. They want to hear. Go ahead.”
    They waited a moment for her to work up her courage.
    “It’s my son, Gilbert,” she said. “He’s in high school, here. He was doing so good, he made new friends. But now they say … it’s not working out so good. They put him in the class with the troubled kids. He has these fits.”
    “He has visions,” Bucky corrected her, gently. “He doesn’t hurt anyone. But he says he sees things, says he hears voices. He’s seventeen and it started this year.”
    “They said he