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

out. What he had done to his wife would just be swept away! What he was going to do to his wife didn’t count. What he had done to me for the last two months, that wasn’t important. None of that mattered anymore. Because he had decided we were going to get married. So now it was all okay.”

I said, “So what happened?”

She glared at me. “What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. I slapped his face and screamed at him. I told him we were finished, packed my things, and left.”

“You packed your things… Did you have a zip up suitcase…?”

She shook her head. “No. I took most of my stuff, what I could fit, in a couple of hold alls. I left some books and CDs and went back a couple of days later to get them.”

I scratched my chin a second, thinking. “Would that be the Friday?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? You expect me to remember the days of the weeks ten years ago?”

I managed to combine a sigh and a smile. “David’s body was found on the Saturday morning. Your big bust up would have been roughly the previous weekend.”

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No. It wasn’t the day before. Probably mid week, Wednesday or Thursday. I was there maybe ten minutes. Got my stuff and left.”

We were quiet for a moment, then Dehan asked her, “He was found on the Saturday morning. Where were you the night before?”

Katie squinted at her. “It’s got to be in the police report. Why are you asking me?”

“Could you please just answer the question?”

She sighed and raised her eyes. “Fine! I went out to dinner with a friend. They checked my alibi.”

I looked out the window at the garden. The trees were nodding and the sky had turned gray again. There were a few drops of rain on the glass.

“Katie, where did David usually work?”

She frowned, not understanding my question. “At home.”

“No, I mean, where in the apartment?”

“Oh, we had a small dining table over by the window. He worked at the table.”

I nodded. “I figure he had all his papers scattered around, taking up all the space, right?”

“I guess so, yeah. Why?”

“When you went to collect your books and your CDs on the Thursday, was his laptop on the table, with all the papers?”

Her face became serious. I could see she was searching her memory. I could tell it was a question she hadn’t asked herself before. She frowned, then her frown deepened and she shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

I nodded. “Yes, you are, Katie. Don’t lie to me.”

Her cheeks colored. “I don’t think there was anything on the table. He’d finished the article. It makes sense.”

“If that is right, where would he have put the article, and his laptop? Neither was found at the scene.”

Her face was like a mask. It was as though she had climbed inside herself and she was now unreachable. She was still frowning, but no longer at my question. I had the feeling she was frowning now at her own thoughts. She said, “I don’t know. I guess his editor…”

“Why would he give his laptop to his editor?”

“I don’t know. You’re asking me questions I can’t answer.”

“Well, what about friends? Did he have a close friend? Somebody other than you that he trusted?”

She thought, and when she answered her voice was almost a whisper. “No…”

“I think you’re lying, Katie.”

Her eyes flashed. “I am not! He didn’t trust anybody! Not even me!”

“You’re telling me he had no friends?”

“He had acquaintances. Some close acquaintances. But no friends. There was Bob, Bob Shaw. That was his editor. He was about as close as anybody ever got to him. And some guy he spoke about sometimes. I never met him. Guy called Lee. But I’m pretty sure the only person he would have trusted with his work, once it was finished, was his editor.”

I thought for a bit, then sighed and put my hands on my knees. “Okay, Katie. I’m going to need an address and a number where we can reach you besides your work number. I’m pretty sure we’ll need to talk to you again.”

She reached in her purse and handed me a card. “Does that mean I’m a suspect? I have an alibi. It was checked.”

I stood, took her card, and put it in my wallet. “Nobody has an alibi, Katie, because nobody knows at what time he was killed. Please, don’t leave town.”

As I opened the front door onto the icy, gray day I heard Katie behind me. “Were you the couple who were due at one?”

I looked at Dehan, who turned to answer. She looked embarrassed, just shrugged, and shook her head.

I climbed into the Jag feeling vaguely depressed. Dehan climbed in beside me and we both sat staring at the bleak expanse of the sound, reflecting the cold, gunmetal of the low clouds.

“Sucks,” she said, and I nodded. “We need to eat and review what we have so far.” I nodded again and fired up the old brute.

Four

I followed Castle Hill avenue for a mile or so north, listening to the desultory squeak of the wipers, till we came to the Café Havana. In the cold and the rain, it looked like just the job. I pulled up outside, Dehan dumped her Australian hat on her head, and we loped across the sidewalk and pushed inside.

A bell clanked overhead and Julio, the bored-looking owner behind the bar, cheered up when he saw us.

“Hey, parejita! How you doin’, man? You come to brighten up my afternoon?”

“It’s what we live for, Julio, you know that.”

We ordered a couple of beers and some chicken and black beans up