A Shot to Die For by Libby Fischer Hellmann Read Free Book Online Page B

all that would explain it? We just have so many questions—we don’t understand—and we need to, you see.…” She broke off.
    I swallowed. I knew she wanted some closure, some affirmation of Daria’s life. The problem was I couldn’t find any meaning in the random, violent murder of a beautiful young woman. Nevertheless, underneath the intensity and sorrow, Irene’s expression was hopeful, even expectant.
    I chose my words carefully. “She was upset when she was fighting with her boyfriend, but she calmed down when they made up. She went inside and bought a drink, and when she came back out, we started chatting. You know, about the heat, the crummy day she’d had. She seemed…well…happy he was coming to pick her up.”
    Irene sat ramrod straight, not saying anything. Kim fidgeted as if the couch was the wrong size for her.
    “By the way, how is he bearing up?” I asked.
    They exchanged glances. Then Irene said, “This—this boyfriend. Did Daria tell you his name?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Her boyfriend. His name.”
    I felt uneasy. Had Daria kept her love life a secret from her mother? I looked at Kim. Her expression was unreadable. “She—she didn’t mention it.”
    Irene nodded as if she’d expected me to say that. “She never told us she had a boyfriend, you see. The first we’d heard of it was on the news reports.”
    Was she was having an affair with a married man? Is that why she never said anything? Did she know that her choice would be unacceptable to Irene?
    Irene went on. “Kim says we can’t know for certain. She says Daria might have been seeing someone but just never got around to telling us.”
    “Or didn’t want to,” Kim added.
    Irene shook her head. “That just doesn’t sound like Daria. She told us everything. We were a close family. And Daria was always so busy with her job. Where would she find the time for a boyfriend?”
    I tried to change the subject. “She was a chef, I understand?”
    “A sous-chef. Second in charge. But she had the lion’s share of responsibility.” The echo of a smile crossed her lips. “She took up cooking as a youngster. She came by it naturally—my family opened the first Greek restaurant in Lake Geneva. Best place in town for a good meal. Flynn is my husband’s name,” she added. “But Herbert—he’s gone now.”
    First her husband, now her daughter. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Kim’s pretty much running the place.” She looked at Kim. “Since my—my illness.”
    “Mother had a stroke six months ago,” Kim explained. “She’s doing much better, but she can’t work like she used to.”
    That explained her fragility. And the shuffling gait. I opened my mouth to offer another apology, but Irene cut me off.
    “But Daria…she—she worked so hard. Up at the crack of dawn to hunt for fresh produce. She’d drive to the fish markets in Chicago and Milwaukee almost every day. Once she even drove all the way to Iowa for some beef. Then, after the restaurant closed, she’d be planning menus for the next day. She worked until midnight most nights.” She leaned forward. “That’s why we were so—”
    “Puzzled.” Kim offered. “Puzzled about the boyfriend.”
    “Not that she couldn’t have,” Irene added. “She was beautiful. She could have had any man she wanted. She took after me.”
    I looked at Kim. Her expression was blank.
    “But no one like that came to the funeral. You’d think if she had a boyfriend, he’d have had the decency to show up.” Irene’s mouth tightened. “Kim thinks she might have been hiding the fact she had a boyfriend because she knew we wouldn’t—I wouldn’t—approve. But I can’t imagine why.” She sighed. “The police have tried to be helpful, but they keep telling us the Illinois Police were the ones who handled the—the crime scene. I think that’s what they call it.”
    I nodded.
    “But whenever we ask to speak with them, they—”
    “Frankly…,” Kim broke in, “We think we’re