Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

She shrugged. “No?”

“The night before last, Sly, Coy and Greg were arrested in Lee County, for drug trafficking and attempted murder…”

Her jaw dropped, and her face, which had been ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale. “Who…?”

“Me. They tried to kill me, and Detective Dehan.” I waited a moment and she seemed to try and crawl inside herself. “We are not Vice, Pat. We are not interested in the part you played in selling the dope here. We are only interested in your sister’s murder. Do you understand that?”

She nodded.

“Good. I just have a couple of questions for you. I want you to think back five years, to just before Kathleen’s death. Things were pretty tough back then, financially, right?”

“I guess.”

“Your dad was dead…”

She nodded.

“Mo had lost his job.”

Again she nodded.

“So it was just Kathleen and Isaac earning. Is that right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you.”

She swallowed.

“You were making money selling Sly and Coyote’s merchandise.”

She nodded. “We needed it pretty bad. That’s the only reason I did it.”

I smiled sympathetically. “You were pretty young, and from what I’ve heard, pretty wild back then. Is that true?”

She smiled uncertainly. “Back then. Now I just smoke a bit of weed. Mom don’t know about it. You won’t tell her, will you?”

I shook my head. “So, business was beginning to go well. You were making a few grand on each shipment. No questions asked at home, everybody grateful, and Greg, Sly, and Coy happy as Larry.” She nodded, looking sheepish. “But then you blew it. Or should I say snorted it. What was it, a night? A weekend?”

“A long weekend.”

“How much did you blow?”

“Five grand.” She giggled. “It was wild. I just wish I could remember it.”

“Were you scared of what Coy might do to you?”

“Yeah, pretty scared. I didn’t think he’d kill me or nothing, but he’d beat me up before, for having the wrong money, or not doing things right. Greg told him to lay off and he did. But I knew he was gonna be real mad about this. I was pretty sure Greg would too.”

“What about your mom and Mo and Anne-Marie?”

She was quiet for a bit, just looking at me. Eventually she said, “They were mad, too. Especially Anne-Marie.”

I stood and walked to the window. The drapes were drawn but I moved them with my finger and looked out. In the gathering dusk I could see the large, well-tended garden. The lawn was freckled with October leaves, and a wind, which I could imagine touched with ice, was rattling a few that still clung to the silver branches of the trees. The shed stood at the end of the garden. Sheds are to Brits and the Irish what garages and basements are to us. They are places where guys go to escape from wives and mothers. It’s where they go to smoke, drink beer, and play with power tools.

“Who uses the shed, Pat?”

“We have a gardener, he comes once a week. But mainly it’s Mo. It’s his shed and his tools.”

“That’s what I thought.”

We left her in her room. As Dehan closed the door we heard the TV come on again, and Mel’s voice came up the stairs. “Are yiz done already? I was just bringing up the tea. Will you have it in the parlor?”

I smiled warmly at her. “That sounds wonderful, Mel. Now, while you and Carmen have a chat, do you mind if I have a peek in your tool shed?”

She shrieked with laughter. “Whatever for?”

“Like your son-in-law, I am a DIY nut. I cannot see a tool shed without going in and having a snoop. You don’t object, do you?”

She looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. “The key is there, by the window. The switch is inside the door.”

I crossed the lawn and unlocked the wooden door. I pushed it open and felt for the switch. The light was from a single bulb with a green shade that hung suspended from the ceiling. It was neat. He had a workbench on the right, with all his tools hung on a board. There was a smell of creosote and sawdust. At the back, there was a lawnmower and a collection of digging tools, a hose on a reel, and a pitchfork. On the left, there were a couple of chairs and a wood burner. There was also a small fridge. Two got you twenty there was beer in there. Under the bench, there were three plastic storage crates, and I knew that’s where it would be.

It was buried under everything else at the bottom of the box, but it didn’t take long to find it. It was in a black, canvas bag with a drawstring. Using my handkerchief I extracted the machete from the bag and took a photograph of it. The blade was still stained. I put it back in the sack and replaced it where I had found it. Then I sent the photograph to the captain, with a message. Was given permission to look in shed at Melanie Vuolo’s house. Found this. Please get warrant to search property and seize evidence for tomorrow AM.

I switched off the light and locked the door, then went back inside. Mel and Dehan were in the parlor drinking tea. Dehan’s face bore a rigid rictus, while Mel, oblivious, talked about every and any thought that, like a butterfly on a late summer breeze, wafted into her mercurial consciousness.

She jumped up and smiled, clasping her hands, joshing and poking fun at me as I came in. “Well, was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“That, and much more.”

She turned to Dehan. “Men! Simple minds are easily pleased!” She squealed and slapped my arm. “Simple minds are easily pleased!”

Dehan stood and she