4 The Marathon Murders Read Free Page A

to the
Davidson County District Attorney General.”
    “The worker gave the papers to
Bradley?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Did Bradley show them to anybody
else?”
    “I don’t think so. Said they were
obviously quite old. The building had been vacant for years. Derelicts had
trashed the place. Bradley said he started to throw the papers away but decided
to take a look first. He’s not a financial type of fellow. He wasn’t sure what
to make of it. But he talked to the building’s owner and learned of Marathon’s
bankruptcy. He knew there had been a lot of controversy. Then he saw my
grandfather’s name, that he was the assistant treasurer.”
    “How did Bradley connect it with
you?” I asked.
    “I think he started with the
Chamber of Commerce. They suggested he contact somebody else. After a few
calls, he came up with my name.”
    “I imagine you’re pretty well known
in the Nashville business community,” Jill said.
    He allowed a full smile for the
first time. It had a touch of shyness to it. “You could probably say that.”
    I looked up from the notes I was
jotting in my lap. “That part about the District Attorney sounds like your
grandfather thought something criminal was involved. Did Mr. Bradley give you
any clue as to what the records contained?”
    Liggett took another deep breath
before replying. “I don’t think he really had any idea. He didn’t know anything
about Sydney Liggett’s disappearance.”
    “Tell us about that.”
    Liggett shifted in his chair, a
beefy hand smoothing his tie. “It’s one of those things you’d rather forget,
but can’t. The first I knew about it was when I was in the first or second
grade. This uppity boy got mad at me one day and said, ‘Your granddaddy was a
thief.’ I thought he was just inventing an insult until I got home and told my mother.
She sat me down and told me not to believe such things. My grandfather had been
accused of taking money from the company, but the family was convinced he
didn’t do it.”
    “That was a terrible way to learn
about it,” Jill said.
    “It was. My mother told me Grandpa
Liggett had disappeared. They found nothing but bones when they discovered his
body several years later. The legal system ruled him guilty, but his wife and
son, my dad, always believed in his innocence.” Albert Liggett rubbed his eyes.
“I’d like to be able to prove that, and these papers sound like they just might
do it.”
    Jill leaned over and whispered in
my ear. “He’s getting tired.”
    I agreed. I stuck my little
notebook in my pocket and stood. “We certainly enjoyed meeting you, Mr.
Liggett. This little chat should help get us off to a good start. You take it
easy now and get well. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.”
    “Just find that fellow and get me
those papers,” Liggett said, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of
his nose.
    Kelli and Jarvis followed us into
the corridor. “What do you think, Greg?” Jarvis asked.
    “I think we’d better go camp on Mr.
Bradley’s doorstep. I hope he’s just gone fishing. It would certainly make
things a lot simpler.”
    We had just returned to the car
when my cell phone rang.
    “Hello,” I answered.
    “Who’s this?”
    I don’t take well to that sort of
question on the telephone. “Who wants to know?”
    The voice was a young man’s, with a
good ol ’ boy twang. “Well, I found this here cell
phone with a message on it to call you. I figured you’d know whose phone it
was.”
    I checked the number on the caller
ID. It looked familiar. I opened my note pad. “It belongs to Mr. Pierce
Bradley. Where did you find it?”
    “On Carey Lane,
just off Highway 25.”
    “What’s that near?”
    “Near?”
    I shook my head. “Is there a town
somewhere around?”
    “Walnut Grove,” he said, “but it ain’t zackly what I’d call a
town.”

Chapter 3
     
    We hit busy Vietnam Veterans Parkway shortly after seven
o’clock, by-passing the upscale suburban town of