A Crossworder's Holiday by Nero Blanc Read Free Book Online

looking at coronary disease.”
    â€œAstute as always—”
    â€œMy middle name.” Belle pulled a pair of driving gloves from her bathrobe pocket, and dangled them in front of Rosco’s eyes. “Let it not be said that I venture off on holiday weekends ill prepared.” She donned the gloves. “Do you think Sara’s okay?”
    â€œYou mean left alone with Charlotte Sacks, the snake in fancy feathers?”
    Belle shook her head. “What I mean is this is almost Sara’s birthday … It’s not exactly what you’d call a festive atmosphere.” They both stared at the bed where Jaffe lay.
    â€œI wouldn’t worry, Belle. You know how much Sara likes being in the thick of things—”
    â€œWell, she’s got her wish. A dead man … and a bunch of warring friends.” Belle sighed. “This was supposed to be a quiet weekend getaway … a special celebration just for her …” The words trailed off.
    â€œSara’s nobody’s fool, Belle … and she’s not the kind of person who expects life to be one continual party. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t busy prying guilty secrets from that crowd downstairs.” Rosco walked to the head of the bed. “Jaffe was obviously struggling when he died …”
    Belle drew in another troubled breath, then again shook her head as if to clear her brain and banish further concerns over her elderly friend. “Couldn’t that have been the result of sudden heart failure—as Marcia suggested? He wakes up from a sound sleep … a lot of booze in his system … experiences palpitations, maybe severe chest pains, and tries to call out for his wife, but she’s not here—”
    â€œPossible … But there’s something unnatural in this guy’s pose … in his expression, too. I may be playing devil’s advocate here, but I have a strong hunch that Jaffe was killed … asphyxiation, I’d guess … although there aren’t any marks on his throat to indicate he was strangled …” Rosco bent closer to the body. “He could have been smothered by a pillow.”
    Belle thought. “Smothered …” Again, she shook her head, and repressed an additional sigh. “Well … what about an undiagnosed allergy … to nuts, or something like that? And he went into anaphylactic shock—which might look a lot like asphyxiation … I had a high school friend who couldn’t get within twenty feet of almond extract.”
    â€œAnd so this is all a tragic accident?”
    Belle nodded, her eyes serious. “Rosco, I just can’t imagine one of these people snuck out of bed in the middle of the night, crept along the corridor, and slunk into this room.”
    â€œSlunk?”
    â€œYou’d prefer slank? Slinked? Anyway, he—or she—would have to have been aware that Marcia was curled up downstairs … Besides, this is an old building; nearly every floorboard and step creaks. Someone would have heard something …” A chill ran up Belle’s spine. “If Jaffe was murdered, that means the killer is still in the house, sipping cocoa and Cosby’s Coffee, and pretending—”
    â€œWhat about Marcia?”
    â€œRosco, the woman’s a basket case.” Belle added a soft, “I would be, too …”
    Rosco nodded. “I understand what you’re saying, and I sincerely hope you’re right … But a voice in my brain keeps insisting we’re looking at homicide.” He picked up the overturned glass, stared at it, then sniffed it. “I’m not detecting anything unusual, but a poison could present as a violent reaction—like heart failure or a food allergy … It wouldn’t take much.”
    â€œThe perfidious pudding.”
    â€œDon’t joke, Belle. We all ate it.”
    â€œI know.”
    I T was on the stair