Shadows Everywhere Read Free Page A

unstable."
    Soreno stared at him unbelievingly, as if it were Garvy who'd sat down uninvited at his table. Then the homicide detective stood abruptly, whirled and walked away.
    After watching Soreno angrily push aside the restaurant's thick wooden door and disappear into the street, Garvy started on his dessert. The worst had happened, and he knew he could live through it, could let most of it roll off him. One of the benefits of long years in his business was the formation of a very thick skin. He had endured the worst before.
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    S oreno was right about the unfavorable publicity. Then came the revocation of Garvy's investigator's license pending further examination. Garvy finally made a formal statement of the truth rather than continue to be hounded by the police and reporters. The truth exonerated Janet Windemer of suspicion of adultery, and in the papers the next morning Garvy read that Raymond Sanders had been reunited with his wife and daughters. A genuine Hollywood ending, Garvy decided, as he cleaned out his desk.
    For Garvy, however, it would be the beginning of a new script. There was always some business a clever operator could pursue profitably, maybe even another detective agency in another state. It was a big country, with plenty of fools waiting to be parted from what Garvy wanted. He realized, as he packed his files and office equipment, that the whole mess had taken more of a toll on his nervous system than he'd let himself believe. It would feel good to make a fresh start in some distant, anonymous city.
    As Garvy was reaching back into the shadowed depths of his bottom desk drawer to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, he heard a peculiar sound from the hall on the other side of the door–a sort of hollow, ripping sound. Garvy straightened in his chair, stood, and was about to go investigate when the office door opened.
    On the floor behind the man who stood in the doorway, Garvy saw the leather gun case whose zipper he'd heard. The gun itself was a long and expensive, beautifully carved, twelve-gauge double-barreled skeet gun, the kind wealthy sportsmen used to shatter clay pigeons on boring weekends. It was held expertly in the hands of Raymond Sanders, and he didn't look bored.
    Keeping the powerful shotgun leveled on Garvy, Sanders closed the door with a backward motion of his foot, and took a step closer.
    Garvy had only had a gun pointed at him once before, and he was frightened, but he kept his voice steady, tried to throw Sanders off guard. "Have a chair," he said, waving at the cushioned chair by the desk.
    Sanders ignored the offer. "You've caused me a lot of grief, Mr. Garvy, more than you'll ever know."
    "You'll have even more grief if you pull that trigger," Garvy said, staring at the two gigantic apertures of the shotgun barrels. He knew what a gun like that could do at close range. One twitch of Sanders' finger could shatter Garvy like a flesh-and-bone skeet target.
    "I doubt if I have the capacity to experience any more sorrow," Sanders said in a weary voice.
    "There's no need to," Garvy said quickly. "The whole thing's over. There's no harm done to you–you're back with your family, your reputation's clear–your wife will love you and trust you all the more!"
    "No harm done," Sanders repeated in a low, oddly laughing voice that sent a blade of fear through Garvy. "No harm done ..."With seeming pain he raised the shotgun to his shoulder and sighted down the long barrels at Garvy.
    "Sanders, wait! You've no reason! I don't even know you! I never meant you any harm! Didn't cause you any harm–everything's the way it was before! Please!" Garvy's heart was crashing against his ribs. He felt an overpowering urge to run for the side door, yet knew he shouldn't.
    "You don't understand," Sanders said in a soft, drained voice. "I loved Janet Windemer very much... very, very much!"
    The two men's eyes locked in suspended time. Then suddenly Garvy did run for the door, exploded