Black Thursday by Linda Joffe Hull Read Free Book Online

Mr. Piggledy asked, kissing his wife gently on the forehead.
    â€œBy Zelda, that new fortuneteller.”
    â€œStill thinks she’s at the circus,” Mr. Piggledy whispered from above her, looking that much more concerned. “Honey, are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”
    â€œI’m sure Katrina shouldn’t have ignored what was in the cards.”
    â€œWhich was?” I asked, now adding Mrs. Piggledy’s possible head injury to my growing list of concerns.
    â€œBe wary of too much of a good thing, or—”
    â€œKathy?” Rang out from behind us and hung heavily in the air.
    I swallowed a sick wave of dread.
    â€œKathy?” The voice, male and plaintive, shouted again.
    Again, there was no answer.
    I was jostled as the crowd compressed to allow a man to push through and rush past.
    He stopped abruptly beside the overturned pallet and glanced at the body, which was already covered except for a hint of sneaker and an inch or two of cuffed blue jean.
    He crumpled to his knees. “Kathy … ”

six
    Kathy echoed down the aisles and hung in the impossibly heavy air. Her husband, I presumed, given the wedding band on his left hand, covered his horror-stricken face.
    Looking anything but awesome, Alan knelt beside him and whispered words I didn’t have to hear to know were heartbreakingly unbearable to receive.
    â€œBack it up, folks,” a police officer said, heading in our direction. “We’re going to need to clear this area.”
    â€œI’m with her,” I said, still holding Mrs. Piggledy’s hand.
    â€œAnd we’re with her,” Barb said pointing to me.
    â€œYou’re all relatives of this victim?”
    â€œI’m Frank Michaels from Channel Three,” Frank said. “This is my mother, father, sister, daughter, and Maddie here happens to be my—”
    â€œWhoever you are, I’ll need you to take a step back so the stretcher can get through,” he said to me before Frank could accurately quantify the current status of our relationship. “You too, sir,” he said, offering a hand so Mr. Piggledy could hoist himself upright beside me. “You are the husband, right?”
    â€œForty-eight years, come June.”
    The officer nodded and directed his attention to me. “And you are?”
    â€œMaddie?” A voice, familiar but definitely not anyone from the Michaels family, answered from behind me.
    I turned and found myself looking into the familiar hazel eyes of another police officer.
    Not just any officer, but South Metro rookie cop Griff Watson.
    Griff Watson, the former mall security guard who had been with me when the manager of Eternally 21 collapsed, setting off a chain of events I still couldn’t quite fathom. Griff Watson, the man responsible for saving me from my near-fatal brush with an unlikely, but decidedly homicidal, maniac. Griff, my friend, whom I hadn’t seen since he was hired on the force.
    The current circumstances more than marred what would have been a pleasant reunion, but his stocky, imposing presence—in official uniform no less—was definitely a comfort.
    â€œGriff! I’m so glad they sent you.”
    â€œI told my partner we had to high-tail it over here as soon as the call came in,” he said, with a slight nod in the direction of the other officer.
    â€œThank you,” I said, in lieu of the hug I wanted give him—I couldn’t exactly embrace an on-duty, on-scene policeman. Not even gruff but sweet Griff Watson.
    â€œThank L’Raine,” he said. “Good thing she was right nearby when the incident happened.”
    â€œL’Raine?” I repeated, as blond, brash, bosomy massage therapist L’Raine appeared from the crowd and stood next to him. Although she didn’t strike me as Griff’s type per se, she certainly had his number handy, which I could only assume meant their relationship