The Assassin's Case Read Online Free Page A

open. Something out of place caught his eye and he bent down. Scratches marred the door jamb indicating it had been pried open.
    Instinct made him reach for his belt, but no gun was there, just a hefty Maglite brand flashlight. The metal device took three D-cell batteries and could serve as a nice club if needed. He thought he spied a shadow, a hint of movement, in the parking lot near his truck. He wanted to check it out but chose to canvas the halls of building first to make sure no residents were in danger. It could be nothing, but then again …
    Pulling the flashlight from his belt he turned and shined the beam left and right. The rear door allowed entry into a long corridor at the back of the building, and no one else occupied it. Ears straining, Grant thought he heard the scuff of a shoe in the corridor to his right. He crept forward and leaned against the wall at the junction of the two hallways. Footsteps approached and a shadow fell across the floor in front of him. Flashlight raised to strike, he spun away from the wall.
    A startled yelp preceded a tray clattering to the floor. One of the nurses on duty, Betty, clutched her chest and gulped in great breaths. “Dear Lord, Grant. You scared the begeezus out of me.”
    “Sorry.” Grant leaned down to help her pick up the shards of a broken glass and plate, and collect the scattered silverware.
    Betty seemed to recover. “What in the world are you doing jumping around corners like that?”
    “I thought I heard something,” Grant said. “Have you seen anybody inside? That shouldn’t be here, I mean?”
    “No.” Betty wrinkled her eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”
    “Yes. Everything’s fine. I’m just a little jumpy” Grant stared down the corridor and didn’t see anything amiss. “But, the back door was left open. I just wanted to be sure.” He grabbed the tray from Betty. “I’ll take care of this for you. And since I’m going that way, I’ll walk you.”
    After escorting Betty to the employee lounge, Grant eased along the corridor, continuing his search. He almost called the police, but for all he knew there could be a reasonable explanation for the condition of the door. Heading to the other residents corridor he passed the employee locker room.
    Something clanged inside. Soft but distinct. The faint sound of metal scraping metal. Grant set the tray down next to the door. Praying for well-oiled hinges he eased the door open. Relieved when no protesting squeal gave him away he peered into the room. A man worked to pry open a locker, his back to the door. Grant’s locker. Identifiable by a strip of manila tape with his name etched in black marker.
    The man wore a black suit stretched over a frame better suited to a beast of burden. He virtually had no neck and his massive shoulders appeared about to burst the fabric of his coat. Short, coal black hair, stopped about an inch above his collar, and the visible portion of his neck was a deep tan.
    Grant stole to within ten feet of him and stopped. “Can I help you with that? The lock seems to be giving you a bit of trouble.”
    The man spun on the ball of his foot. Though he appeared a little surprised he made no move. His face was wide with a flat nose. It appeared as if he had stepped out of an episode of the Sopranos , or off the set of Goodfella’s . Though just a shade shorter than Grant’s six-three he seemed to fill the room. The man’s eyes narrowed when he looked at Grant’s face, as if realizing who he was. “Where’s the case?”
    “And you are …?”
    “It belongs to me. I need it.”
    Grant whipped a phone from his pocket. “Well. I’ll be more than happy to return it to you. Once we get the police here we’ll get this thing straightened out.”
    The man drew in a long breath. His chest swelled. It must have taken a lot of energy to expand the massive cavity. He released the breath and pinched his lips together, almost as if resigning himself to a course of action he