Читать книгу Bath House Murders - Logan Masters - Страница 5

The sun had moved much higher in the Saturday morning sky as a few clouds floated by in one of the more expensive neighborhoods of Phoenix. On a backyard patio with a beautiful pool in the center sat an attractive shapely woman in her early forties. Dressed in an expensive looking leisure suit, she was drinking orange juice and reading a newspaper. Cigarette smoke is swirled around her head, driven by a gentle autumn breeze. A grave look was on her face.

Suddenly, before her was a man wearing long-legged pajamas and an expensive looking housecoat. He was forty years old, but his physical frame showed he is in great shape for his age. He looked to have a golfer’s tan, his bare chest visible because several buttons are unhooked on his pajama shirt. His hair had a light salt and pepper look to it. He had a distinguished appearance and easily could have modeled suits for GQ.

“Good morning,” he said.

She didn’t speak right away, but kept looking at the paper.

“You think it’s good?” she finally responded in a catty fashion.

He bit his lower lip, recognizing he was in for a fight.

“I know, I know. You’re mad because I worked late again last night.”

She didn’t look up.

“This is a big case for our law firm. There so much research to do and only so many days to do it.”

“Do you do this research with that office bimbo?” her comment coated with sarcasm.

“Barb…”

Before he can say more than her pet name, she lashed out at him!

“Adam! You come home after midnight, night after night, and expect me to greet you with damned pleasantries?”

She picked up her cigarette to take a long drag off it.

“Barb, I wished you wouldn’t…”

“Smoke so much? Is that the real reason you come home so late, because of my smoking? Or is it because of my bitching?”

She yanked the smoke-stick from between her lips and she squished the lighted end into the ash tray!

“Maybe you would prefer it, if I drank more. Then I would be too damn drunk to know when you came home. Or if you came home!”

“That’s not reasonable,” he responded somewhat sheepishly.

“Why in the hell did I marry an attorney? There’s no talking with you! You bastard, I need a husband. Not just Adam Speck of Harold, Wiggins, and Speck, hot-shot attorneys!”

Tears are forming in her eyes.

“You don’t hold me any more. There’s no intimacy in our marriage. What do you want me to do Adam? Go to the market and offer money to a kid carrying out my groceries?”

He bowed his head.

“Boy, I’ll say, you see my husband’s not interested in me, so how about a romp in the hay? How much money do you want? I got lots. Besides, it’s all right. You see, my husband doesn’t give a damn! Not a damn!”

By this time, she was nearly sobbing.

His head is bowed even lower. He extended his arms, to draw her near, but she held him at a distance and turned away.

“Damn you Adam! I don’t want your pity. I’m your wife.”

Her words were barely audible, as her utterances were issued between heavy sobs!

The phone in the house began ringing. Adam hastily walked toward the house, passing through open sliding glass doors that led into a home office. He picked up the phone from his desk.

“Hello, this is Adam Speck.” He listened for few seconds.

“Why Bill, I thought you would be on the ninth hole by now.”

He listened a bit more and then spoke again. “A new client? I didn’t know we were taking on any new clients.”

“A murder case?” as he repeated these words, he was clearly startled.

He then listened very attentively for several minutes.

“Bill, did you say The Bulge? A murder was committed last night at The Bulge?”

The expression on his face showed he was drifting in thought, almost to the point he was no longer hearing what is being said on the phone.

Multiple seconds funneled into a minute. A loud voice soon became audible from the other end of the line. “Adam, are you there? Adam?”

His train of thought is suddenly snapped.

“Yeah! Yeah Bill, I’m here. You said the dead man’s name was,” there was a pause, “Brice Williams?”

A tear rolled dlown his cheek as he reconnected to the conversation.

“You want me to do what! Take this case!”

He raised his hand, gesturing opposition to the request.

“Bill, you know how busy I already am. To take on more work, given all my present commitments, well… Hell, it’s just not possible.”

He paused and listened more.

“Sure, but,” his comment is cut short as he listened again.

“The client requests me? And that’s agreeable to…”

Before he can finish his comment, he responds, “Yeah, I know, he’s the senior partner. I know he has the greatest confidence in me. Yeah, I know! I know!”

There was an extended pause as he listened for the last time. Then he ended the conversation, “I understand. Okay!”

He turned to look out toward the pool. His wife is taking a draw off another cigarette. He took the phone and pressed the receiver under his chin, holding it with both hands. He held that position until an electronic-sounding message begin to emanate from the object in his hand. “Please hang up the phone, a receiver has been left off the hook. Please hang up the phone… Several more tears fell from his eyes…”