Burn by John Lutz Read Free Book Online

only ask some very basic questions.” Carver pulled a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket and clicked out the point. “You say you’ve spoken to her. How many times?”
    “Not more’n three or four. Once just to pass the time of day when we was both out in our backyards. ’Nother time about some stray dogs kept getting into people’s trash around here. That’s not much of a problem anymore, though. City animal control people came out and—”
    “Do you recall if Marla Cloy smokes?”
    Mildred Fain rubbed a small, arthritically gnarled hand over her jutting jaw. “No, can’t say as I do. Why’s that important?”
    “Life expectancy. You’d be surprised what the actuarial tables demonstrate. If everybody read them, nobody would smoke.”
    “Well, I smoked like a smudge pot for forty-nine years, and I’m still here.”
    “Some of us are lucky,” Carver said, “or have the right parents.” He smiled. “You look like you come from good stock, Mrs. Fain.”
    She returned the smile. Still no teeth. “Dutch-Irish,” she said.
    “Oh-ho,” Carver said, as if that meant something. “What about Miss Cloy’s lifestyle?”
    “Lifestyle?”
    “Yes. For instance, does she seem to entertain a lot?”
    “Hardly ever, near as I can tell. And my kitchen sink’s got a window over it looks out on our backyards, so I can see her house. She seems a good woman that minds her own business.”
    “Good woman?”
    “I never saw any wild goings-on, if you catch my meaning.”
    “Uh-huh.” Another smile for Mrs. Fain. Carver was beginning to enjoy this. “No men coming and going at all hours?” He winked. “Nothing that would delight the devil and displease the Lord?” Too much? he wondered. Naw, this was Florida, the excess reach of the Bible Belt dangling south from the buckle to form a peninsula.
    “Heavens, no! She keeps pretty much to herself. Works at home, I think. Said she was some kind of writer, is my recollection.”
    “That’s what she gave as her occupation,” Carver confirmed.
    “Humpf! Can’t be much money in that.”
    “Probably not. Is there any one man in particular you’ve seen visiting Marla Cloy?”
    “Nope. You seem stuck on that. I told you, she didn’t have men coming and going.”
    “That’s right, you did. How long has she lived there? Just approximately?”
    “ ’Bout three months, maybe a little less, I’d say. Said she moved here from Orlando.”
    “Does she own?”
    “Nope, that house is a rental. Had several people move in and out the last few years. Man who repaired computers lived in it before Marla Cloy. He got into some kinda trouble, I hear, had to move away in a hurry. Something to do with child molestation in Seattle followed him here because of his ex-wife’s accusations. Bitter divorce. He abused her and the woman wanted to get even, though she did get the house and full custody of the two children, and all he got was the family car, his computer tools, and some personal possessions. Don’t know much else about him, though. Got little time for gossip or keeping tabs on the neighbors.”
    “More people should think that way. Did anyone help Marla Cloy move in, or did she hire a mover?”
    “Hired a mover, but there wasn’t much big and heavy to move. Then she drove back and forth in that old car of hers, with loads of boxes and clothes on hangers. She don’t have much that looked like good furniture or expensive clothes. But young people don’t these days. Things are hard for them.”
    “Would you describe her as a woman of moderate habits? I mean, she doesn’t drive crazily or drink to excess . . . that sort of thing.”
    “Seems to drive like everybody else. As to drink, that I wouldn’t know about one way or the other. Never seen her take a drink when she was out in the yard or visible through her windows. Wouldn’t mean much anyways. Drinking’s no sin. Bit of alcohol every day’s good for the nerves and heart.”
    Carver was beginning to