Dead Bolt by juliet blackwell Read Free Book Online Page B

client, Jim Daley?”
    “He works at Integrated Networking Systems. Their offices are downtown, on Sansome.”
    While the inspector wrote down the name, I glanced over at Cheshire House. Katenka stood at the foot of the limestone steps, leaning against the front balustrade, holding Quinn awkwardly on her hip. The baby was not yet a year old, but he looked about half as big as she, as though Katenka were a child herself, babysitting a younger brother. She wore a long, crocheted sweater, but her gossamer dress blew in the chill wind, wrapping around her bare legs.
    When I turned my attention back to Inspector Crawford, I noted her gaze had followed the direction of my own. I had the sense the woman didn’t miss much.
    “We’re finding Ms. Daley less than cooperative,” she said.
    “It could be a language problem. She’s from Russia.”
    “Yeah, I figured that part out already. I’m a homicide inspector; I have a sixth sense about these things.”
    It took me a second to realize Crawford was joking. I gave her a weak smile.
    “If you think of anything else, you be sure to let me know.” She handed me her business card and headed back to the upholstery shop.
    I squeezed through the crowd of onlookers to greet Katenka.
    “How are you holding up?”
    She shook her head.
    I held my hands out in a silent offer to hold Quinn. She surrendered him and rubbed her upper arms as though her muscles were sore from his weight.
    Quinn had his mother’s big hazel eyes, but his were unguarded, open to the wonders of the world. Reveling in his fresh infant scent and the warm weight in my arms, I bounced a little and made funny faces as he gurgled happily. I felt a palpable sense of relief, knowing he hadn’t been harmed in the night.
    I could do without the crying and diapering, but babies sure are cute.
    “So, no visits from ghosts last night?” I asked Katenka.
    She shook her head. “I told you: with the amulets, we are safe.”
    The scene unfolding before us was horrifying, but ultimately it had nothing to do with any of us—unless, of course, my father was actually accused of something. But I refused to entertain that thought at the moment. I had come this morning intending to talk some sense into the Daleys about the apparitions, and the project. “Did you talk to Jim about—”
    “He is at work already. He went in early today.” There was alarm in her pretty eyes. “But, Mel, listen: The police say they need to speak with Jim.”
    “It’s all right, Katenka; it’s just standard procedure.”
    “You don’t understand.” Her voice dropped and she glanced around the crowd. “Emile came to the door. Jim told him to stop bothering us. He raised his voice.”
    “When was this?”
    “Last night.”
    “Were—” The baby put his pudgy little hand on my mouth as though to silence me. I leaned my head back. “Were you with him?”
    “No, I stay with Quinn. But then Jim followed Emile to the upholstery store.”
    “Did you tell this to the police?”
    “The police ? You are crazy.”
    She looked shocked, and it dawned on me: Katenka was Russian. I had lived in enough different countries and environments to know that not everyone grows up with the concept of Officer Friendly. In a lot of the world the corrupt and violent local police force was about the last organization you would turn to for help.
    “Katenka, you need to be honest with the officers. The inspector’s no fool; she’ll probably figure it out anyway, and if you don’t tell her first, it will seem suspicious. Since Jim didn’t do anything, he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of.” I hoped.
    She shook her head and took little Quinn back.
    “Did you speak to Jim about the renovation project last night?”
    “No. I was going to, but Jim was busy with baby; then Emile came to the door. And he was upset, so I wait.”
    I nodded, unsure how to proceed. “So, shall I continue the job? If your home really is haunted, the ghosts will remain whether