The Phantom Photographer: Murder in Marin Mystery - Book 3 (Murder in Marin Mysteries) Read Online Free

lived in Fresno, but she carried the weight of years of regret for the abrupt decision she had made.  
    Reluctant to simply agree with Fred, Barbara took the middle path and said, “Let me talk with him.”
    Fred was sorely tempted to say more, but the salesman in him had sharply honed listening skills. He sensed the weariness in her voice with the situation. He told himself to wait two weeks and see if this intolerable situation might at last be on its way to a satisfactory resolution.

    A few days later, Barbara arranged to come by the camera shop and take Michael out for lunch. She went through a series of delicate suggestions that the time had arrived for him to move out into a place of his own. With his lunch hour nearing an end, and the conversation mostly focused on what Michael called, “the coming revolution of digital photography,” Barbara decided it was time to stop her subtle suggestions and get to the point.  
    “Fred would like to know when you’re planning on moving out.”
    “You mean getting my own place?”
    “Exactly.”
    “I had no idea he wanted me out. You guys have such a big place; I didn’t think I was in the way.”
    “I think it’s more about his privacy. He’s just not used to having other people living with him. And to be fair, Michael, you were supposed to look for your own place within a few months of starting your job. It’s now over a year!”
    “Yeah, sure, okay. Tell him I’ll start looking. Can you give me a couple of weeks?”
    “Of course, dear. There’s three weeks until the end of the month. Why don’t I tell Fred that you’ll be out by the first day of next month?”

    Barbara and Michael’s parting after lunch was awkward. He was distracted, and she was relieved. He was miffed with Fred, and she felt some guilt knowing that she had been less than honest in placing all the blame for Michael’s eviction on the man who had originally come between her and her family.
    Michael went back to work with only one thought on his mind: the anger he felt toward Fred. For several years after Barbara’s departure, Michael had secretly asked God to strike his rightful vengeance against the man who had led his mother astray. Fred was a thief who had come into their home, gained the trust of his kind-hearted and hapless father, and stolen his mother away. Through his studies of anthropology, Michael was certain that had these been more primitive times, his father would have come one night and simply murdered them both.  

    Back at the shop, Milton quickly read that something was both distracting and distressing his young protégé, so after an hour’s hesitation, he finally asked, “Michael, what’s bothering you?”
    As if he had stuck a pin in a balloon. Michael let loose with all that had happened to his family since the night his mother disappeared with Fred.
    “My dad woke in the morning, and when he found she was not there beside him in bed, he went and opened the front door to see if her car was out front. When he did, he saw a note stuck inside the screen door. Can you believe it was only twelve words! My dad looked like he had been hit over the head with a two by four. He walked around in a daze for the next two months.”
    Michael was thankful that for the thirty minutes it took him to tell his story, no customers wandered in on what had turned into a rain soaked afternoon. By the time he was done, Milton said softly, “Son, I can tell you’ve been through an awful lot. Let me make some calls and see what I can do. There’s always someone around here with a half empty house looking to rent a room.”
    If Michael hadn’t been such an honest, bright, hardworking young man, Milton might not have been so determined to help. But he was, by far, the best store assistant he had ever had, and he was only too pleased to work his community contacts on Michael’s behalf.  
    One week after their lunch, two weeks before Barbara’s suggested move out date, Michael packed