A Killer's Agenda by Anita M. Whiting

through, not giving
    him time to continue the conversation. He moved into the hall wavering between whether he was impressed or ticked off or both.
    Nora smiled up at him from her desk. “Is there something else I can help you with, Mr. Norton?”
    -53-
    Anita Whiting
    “No. No, thank you,” he murmured, making his way out into
    the sunshine.
    He drove home slowly, his thoughts muddled. The woman was
    full of contradictions. One minute she was tucking her feet
    underneath her, flirting lightly, and the next putting him firmly in his place, those incredible green eyes searing right through him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t dated other women. He had, several of them for a long period. Most of the time, the relationships were casual and mutually satisfying. They didn’t leave him feeling frustrated and on edge.
    He forced himself to switch gears. After all, none of that was important. What really mattered was her ability to help him find his aunt’s killer.
    He walked into his condo, throwing his keys on the foyer table.
    The blinking answering machine light caught his eye as he grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. He took a satisfying gulp and then switched the machine on. The voice that began speaking had him sitting up straight, his drink forgotten.

    “Bradley, I’ve thought about what you told me earlier and,
    although I have my reservations, I took the liberty of contacting Russell Ferron. He happens to be an acquaintance of mine. It was his wife that was killed about nine months ago in Charlotte. He has agreed to speak with you. I’m still not sure this is wise, but if you feel there is something to what you suspect, meeting with him might be a good starting place. I’ve emailed you both his address and his home and office numbers.”

    -54-
    A Killer's Agenda
    Brad clicked the off button, sinking down on the couch. He
    didn’t even know his father had his phone number. What was even harder to believe was, if he read between the lines, it appeared Andrew Norton was actually offering him an olive branch of sorts.
    He picked up the phone and moments later Maggie answered.
    “Afternoon, Maggie. Is my father home?”
    “Not yet, Brad. You can reach him at the office for about
    another half an hour if you need him, though.”
    He glanced at the clock on the mantel.
    “Of course. What was I thinking? I should know the time table by now.”
    “It won’t work if you don’t give, Brad,” Maggie said sharply.
    “What won’t work?” he asked, although he knew exactly what
    she was talking about.
    “Mending your relationship with your father.”
    “I know, Maggie. I guess I’ve inherited more of his
    stubbornness than I want to admit.”
    “Actually, your mother could hold her own in that category as well. When she thought she was right, she stood aside for no one.”
    That brought a smile to his face. “Looks like I don’t have a chance then. Listen, Maggie, do you know someone by the name of Russell Ferron?”
    There was silence on the other end of the phone for a brief
    moment. “Seems to me the name sounds familiar. Why?”
    “His wife was killed the same way Aunt Ellie was, about three months before, in Charlotte.”
    “Oh, yes. Now I remember. Well-known family in the area.” Her voice changed. “You think she was killed by the same person as your aunt?”
    -55-
    Anita Whiting
    “It’s a possibility. My father left a message saying he knew the husband. Arranged for me to meet him.”
    “Andrew did that?” Maggie asked in surprise.
    “Yeah, he did. I know. I’m still recovering from the shock as well. Strange coincidence both Aunt Ellie and this man’s wife died the same way. Maybe he saw that as well.”
    “He’s trying, laddie. Meet him half way.”
    “I intend to. Let him know I called and I’ll be in touch.”
    “I will. Be careful, love. If what you suspect is really true, then there might be someone out there that won’t be happy at you
    pushing for information.”
    “Irish