More Harry Hogan stories!
Harry was driving towards home when he saw someone coming out of the country on one of the hiking trails. Not unusual, but what caught his attention was the fishing basket the man carried. Always on the lookout for new fishing places, he stopped and rolled down the truck window. “Any good fishing spots in that way?”
The man stopped and shook his head. “I didn’t see any, but it’s not a good place to be.”
“Is it poor walking?”
“It’s just not a good place.” The man shook his head, mumbled something under his breath, and walked off.
Harry put the truck in gear, but something didn’t feel right. So he took note of the license plate number, and called his former police force partner to check it out. The registration belonged to Gary Martin, with no record in court documents.
As he drove back to the office, that brief exchange stayed with him, nagging at the back of his mind. Had the guy been up to something, or had he seen evidence that someone else had been up to something? No charges didn’t mean the man was clean, it could simply mean that he hadn’t been caught. It didn’t take much to stir Harry’s curiosity sometimes, and he decided to keep an eye on the trail for a few days.
********************
Bertie looked up from her desk as he walked in and went straight to the coffeepot. He poured the coffee, and sat on the corner of his desk.
She looked up from her computer. “Something on your mind?”
“Maybe.” He told her about meeting Gary Martin. “Probably nothing to be concerned about, but I got the impression that there was something he didn’t want to talk about. Do you know him?”
She shook her head. “Maybe there was a good fishing spot in there and he wanted to keep it to himself.”
“It don’t think that was it. He said it wasn’t a good place to be… and he said it twice.”
Bertie shrugged. “Perhaps the trail is in bad shape… not good for walking.”
“He could have just said that.” Harry frowned. “What are you working on?”
“Family research for Bonita Best. She was here a few days ago.”
“Oh yeah, the redhead. How is it going? I’d offer to help, but…”
She laughed. “I don’t anticipate any problem finding what she needs.”
Harry placed his mug on his desk. “Good, because it’s not my area of expertise. I’m going talk to Joe and Silas, see if they know anything about Martin. Joe might be familiar with the trail too.”
“Then maybe you can help,” Bertie said. “Ask if they know anything about Bonita’s grandfather, Samuel White. If so, it would add something extra to this story.”
“If they do, I’ll tell them to come and talk to you.”
********************
Harry’s first stop was at Silas’s small house. His wife had died a number of years ago from cancer. Silas had remained in the house alone and Harry always found the place as welcoming as Silas himself.
Silas came around the corner with a rake in his hand, as Harry stepped out of the truck. “Did I come at a bad time?” he asked.
“Not at all.” Silas laughed. “I could use a break. Come on in.”
