Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best thriller books to read .txt) 📕

the road I saw a car pull up, and almost immediately afterward, a second car pulled into Bob’s drive. I stood. “I think that’s the Smiths, and your wife.”

He stood, peering out. “Oh, yes indeed.”

He hurried to the door and opened it to his wife. She was large and comfortable, the way a sofa would be large and comfortable if it could cook chocolate brownies. She looked at us in surprise while her husband explained our presence, and seemed distressed that we were leaving.

“Do come again,” she said, “if you think we can be of any help. I’ll see what I can remember!”

Outside, Jenny was going through the door. Peter had stopped on the steps, with the listless drizzle speckling his face. He watched us approach, frowning. I guess he had also noticed our lack of physical interaction. We showed him our badges, and he said, “What’s this about?”

Dehan answered, “It’s about the arms you found in your lockup twelve years ago, Mr. Smith. Could we come inside and talk to you?”

I added, “We won’t take up more than a couple of minutes of your time.”

He seemed to snap out of his frown and said, “Of course! Of course! Come in…”

Jenny was standing in the hallway looking anxious. She was pretty, about thirty-six, well groomed, with intelligent blue eyes. She was saying, “What is it, honey?” addressing her husband but looking at us.

“Well, I don’t know yet, sweetheart, do I? Let’s find out.” To us he said, “Will you have some coffee?”

We said we would, and he sent his wife to make coffee while he sat us down. “Has there been some development, Detective Stone?”

“We periodically review cold cases, Mr. Smith. Sometimes a fresh perspective, a new set of eyes, can make a difference. I know it was twelve years ago, and I know you went over it all with the detectives at the time, but I was hoping you could talk me through exactly what happened that weekend.”

He spread his hands and kind of shrugged with his face, like he thought we were wasting his time and ours, but he had to be polite.

“I can spare you ten minutes, Detectives, but I have work to do.”

Dehan smiled sweetly and said, “We appreciate any time you can spare us, Mr. Smith.”

He sighed and seemed to gather his thoughts. Outside, the trees swayed, and a sudden squall threw a handful of rain at the window.

“I’d been away the week before. I got back on the Friday. I was pretty tired and spent the weekend relaxing, doing some shopping…” He smiled. It was almost reproachful, like we had somehow been responsible for what happened. He said, “The kind of thing you wouldn’t normally remember twelve years later, unless you found a couple of severed arms in your lockup!”

From the kitchen, Jenny said, “Oh, Bob!”

He turned to stare at her with a rigid face, but he didn’t say anything. She came and sat next to Dehan with a tray of coffee.

“It was horrible,” she said. “We’d had such a nice weekend. It was lovely to have him back…”

She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back.

“Do you want to take over, honey? You want to tell the story?” Her cheeks colored, and she handed Dehan a cup. As she handed me mine, he continued talking. “Sunday we did things in the house, started getting Christmas decorations out. I was going away again on the Wednesday, so we had to get everything ready for when I got back. Jenny can’t do that kind of thing on her own.”

I glanced at Dehan. I could see her jaw muscle pumping. Peter spread his hands.

“Nothing else happened Sunday. Monday morning, I went to the lockup to get a box of baubles and paper chains, lights, that kind of stuff. And there, on top of the boxes…” His eyes seemed to glaze, and he shook his head. “At first I thought they were part of a manikin, and I was wondering how the hell a manikin had got into my lockup. Then I looked closer and it dawned on me, they were real. I actually fell down.”

He stared at me. I could imagine him in a counseling session, looking at his therapist in the same way.

“I ran. I vomited at the end of the alley. Poor Jenny had to come and clean it up.”

She simpered at us.

He ignored her. “Naturally, I immediately called the police.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry. That is really all I can tell you.”

Dehan cleared her throat. She had a notebook on her knee, where she had been scribbling things. She was looking at it now. “You said you were away the week before… What work did you do at the time, and how long were you away?”

He seemed to grow, like he was about to tell us he was a special advisor to the White House.

“I represent the CAC Corporation—Canadian American Chemicals. Back then I was a representative, and I had to do a great deal of traveling…”

Dehan smiled. “You mean you were a sales rep? Were you traveling by car or by plane, Mr. Smith?”

His face hardened. “Is it relevant?”

“We don’t know.”

“I started out as a sales representative, that is correct. All my traveling was by car, and very exhausting it was, too. I put in my hours and was rapidly promoted to area sales manager, and now I work mostly from home. Which reminds me…” He glanced at his watch.

Dehan was still smiling. “So how long were you away on that occasion?”

“I seem to recall it was a week.”

“Where had you been?”

He thought for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. “Michigan.”

“And you were off again the following Wednesday, to…?”

“Ohio and Indiana. Now, if there is nothing else…”

I said, “Yes, there is.