Dearly Departed by Carly Winter (best affordable ebook reader .txt) 📕

it much thought,” Mrs. Wilson replied. “But I guess expecting you to do the right thing—stay and talk to the police—would be assuming too much of you.”

Even I winced at the blatant cut.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Claudia asked.

“I don't, dear. What I hate is the way you treated Charles.”

“My marriage to him isn't any of your business.”

“Except you made it my business when you trashed your apartment. I should have called the police on you that day.”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “I'm leaving.”

“Why?” Mrs. Wilson asked. “Are you afraid you'll be arrested for trespassing? I thought you had every right to be in your dead husband's apartment.”

I arched an eyebrow at Mrs. Wilson. My dear neighbor seemed to be egging on our intruder, but for what reason, I couldn't fathom. Was it out of sheer dislike, or was there more to it?

Mrs. Wilson smiled. “Tell me what you were looking for, Claudia, and I'll consider letting you walk out of here.”

Sirens wailed in the distance.

“The will,” Claudia said through gritted teeth. “I wanted to be certain any estate was coming to me instead of the stupid girlfriend.”

“Ah, I see,” Mrs. Wilson said, stepping aside and clearing the path for Claudia to run.

“Do you know where it is?” Claudia asked.

Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “I would never go through Charles' things. I have more respect for the dead than that.”

Another cut. Dang. She was brutal.

“You disgust me,” Claudia said. After throwing me a quick glare, she left.

“The feeling is mutual,” Mrs. Wilson muttered under her breath.

We stood in silence for a few seconds as the sirens drew closer. “What do we do now?” I asked.

“You can go back to your apartment and I'll wait for the police if you like.” She strode over to the kitchen table and picked up a few pages of Charles’ manuscript. “Such a shame. It looks as if he was writing a book.”

“That’s what I thought when I found the body. Maybe a memoir or something.”

“Yes. One that will never be read.” She ran her hand over the top of the typewriter.

“Sadly, no,” I said. “I’m going to leave, but you were right about Claudia. She is a shrew.”

Mrs. Wilson chuckled. “Yes. And it appears time has made her disposition even uglier.”

Just as I closed the door to my apartment, I heard footsteps and men talking in the stairwell. Leaning my head against the door, I listened as Mrs. Wilson told the cops that Claudia had been caught in the apartment and she didn't know if the woman should be allowed in because she didn't live there. “It seems to be quite the gray area to me,” Mrs. Wilson said. “I wasn't sure what to do.”

I hobbled over to the telephone, picked up the business card Bill had given me and dialed the hotel number he'd written on the back.

“Bill Hart, please,” I said to the friendly hotel front desk clerk.

“Mr. Hart has left the hotel, ma’am, and asked us to take messages from anyone who calls. Can I take your name and number for him?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I gave my information then pulled the phone with me as I sat on the couch, hoping he wouldn’t be too long. Not that I really had anywhere to go or anything to do.

I jumped when the phone shrilled through the silence. “Hello?”

“Hi, Patty. I received a note to call you.”

Bill.

“I thought you may want to know that Mrs. Wilson and I just caught Charles' wife going through his things inside his apartment.”

“What was she looking for? Did she say?”

“After a while, she admitted she was looking for his will.”

“Interesting. Did she say anything else?”

“Not really,” I replied, turning the cord around my finger as Ringo jumped onto the cushions and began rubbing his head against my arm. “She was angry she'd been caught though.”

“Hmm... “

“I think she could have killed him, Bill. She hated him. I saw it in her eyes.”

“I don't know, Patty. Women usually don't kill like that.”

“But she has motive! If she's desperate enough for the money, then she may have murdered him and come back looking for the will!”

A long stretch of silence sat between us while I ran my hand over my needy cat and it sounded like Bill was swirling ice cubes in a glass.

“I still think Wayne did it,” he finally said. “That guy's guilty.”

With a sigh, I rolled my eyes. “I think a jilted wife who obviously hates her husband makes for a better suspect than a man who lost his best friend.”

“Are you arguing with an FBI agent, Patty?” Bill asked, chuckling.

“Yes. I guess I am. You seem to be focused on pinning this on Wayne, and I only hope you'll take others into account.”

“I will,” he replied. “I just can't see a woman killing a man like that. It kind of goes against the natural order of things.”

“Fine, Bill. I'm sure you're right.” I sighed in irritation at his unwillingness to really think about Claudia being the killer despite his agreement that he would.

“Listen, I was hoping you'd accompany me to see the war protestor who lives downstairs from you... the guy Charles used to fight with all the time.”

“I don't know him.”

“Really? I thought you did.”

Again, I felt I was being used. “No, I don't.”

“That's okay. Come with me anyway. I'd like to hear your thoughts on him after I complete the interview.”

Well, maybe I wasn't being used. I had nothing to offer him except my company when it came to the man downstairs. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Great. I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. Have a good night, Patty.”

I hung up and scooped Ringo from cushion and returned the phone to the kitchen counter. Getting around without crutches wasn't so bad. Another day, and I'd be able to return to work.

After flipping on the television, I glanced over at the front door and noted I hadn't locked it.

I hurried over and turned the bolt as a chill ran down my spine. If I