Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best ereader for academics .txt) 📕

I leaned forward. “The door was definitely closed?”

“Oh yes, definitely.” He gave a smile that suggested the answer was obvious. “Had she left it open, I would have called her. However, just as I was pulling the drapes closed, another man approached from the direction of the party. He climbed the stairs and rang her bell. After a moment, the door opened, they seemed to exchange some words, not in an unfriendly way, he stepped in and the door closed behind him. I assumed all was well, closed my drapes and went to bed.”

Dehan nodded for a moment, sipping her coffee. Then she asked, “Could you describe the two men? Did you know either of them?”

He sighed and stroked his cat. “Please, let me give you a cautious answer. I should hate for an innocent man to go to prison because of my erroneous identification. That said, I had the impression at the time that the first man was a friend of Giorgio, the Mexican artist who lives up the road, where the party was being held that night. I don’t know his name, but I have seen them together on many occasions. Average height, slim, well-built, curly hair. He looks something like Carlos Santana, if that name means anything to you. The second man was not dissimilar, but it was much harder to make any kind of identification because he was so wrapped up with clothes, including a thick woolen hat.”

Dehan scratched her chin. “I don’t want to influence you, Mr. Smith…”

“You won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good. Is it possible that the second man was the first man, having returned after putting on warmer clothes?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Well, now, that is something that had never occurred to me. Yes, it is certainly possible, but I could not put my hand on my heart and say it certainly was him. Also, I would have to say I doubt it, because she was so adamant in rejecting the first man that I think it unlikely.”

“But you would say he was roughly the same height and size.”

“Yes.”

I drained my cup and set it down on the table. “When he rang on the bell, and the door opened, did you see Sue?”

He looked surprised again and chuckled. “My, you two have an interesting line in questions.” He leaned back against the sofa and thought for a moment. “One is so cautious about creating false memories. Did I see her, or just assume that I had seen her? No, I saw her. She pulled the door open, she had taken off her coat, they spoke a moment, she was smiling, and they went inside. She closed the door.”

“I am sure your recollection is very accurate, Mr. Smith, but can I just make sure? Are you absolutely certain that the first man left?”

“Oh, without a doubt. I returned with the telephone, and the very reason I did not call 911 was because he was leaving.”

“Yes, that makes perfect sense. Did you hear any of the exchange between the second man and Sue?”

“No. I had by then closed the window.”

Dehan crossed one long leg over the other. “How well did you know Sue?”

He smiled with pleasure. “Not all that well, sadly. Not as well as I should have liked.” He laughed. “She was immensely attractive. I don’t just mean her looks, but her temperament, her personality. She was very lively and very friendly. Always smiling. So if she passed and I was doing some gardening she would stop and we would chat. She was quite bright. She had an opinion on most things. She liked to go to exhibitions. Her interest in art was genuine. But we had not become that friendly that we would visit with each other or anything of that sort.”

She winced at her own question. “Would you say she was a flirt?”

He produced his comfortable chuckle again and nodded. “Oh, yes. She was definitely a flirt. But not in a malicious way. I think a lot of younger men would have mistaken her flirting for a come on. She was not skilled, but she loved the game. In my youth, these things were better understood, but today, sadly, I see a youth that wants immediate gratification for every whim and desire, and also a youth that is deeply confused about its own identity. She loved the whole game of flirting, but I was aware that she had not yet found a man that she wanted a serious relationship with.” He shrugged with his eyebrows and sadness altered his features. “Perhaps she flirted with the wrong man.”

I grunted. “Did she have many male visitors?”

He watched me awhile with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I liked her, Detective Stone, I was fond of her, but I didn’t spend my life watching her through my window. I have children and grandchildren, and a girlfriend to keep me busy.”

“None of that surprises me, Mr. Smith.”

“I just wanted to make sure you understood that. The answer to your question is that the only men I saw visiting her were the Mexican artist and his friend, sometimes together and sometimes separately. How long they stayed I have no idea, and as to whether there were others, there may well have been. But those two were the only ones I saw.”

We were silent for a moment, then I asked him, “Did you form any private opinion or theory about who might have killed her?”

He shook his head. “No, I simply didn’t know her well enough.”

We chatted a little longer, then thanked him for his help and left, no wiser than we had been when we’d arrived.

Six

There were patches of ice-blue in the sky. The sleet had stopped, leaving the pavements wet and slippery, but the temperature had dropped to several degrees below freezing, causing patches of black