Dead By Midnight by Carolyn Hart Read Free Book Online

Pat’s death to be objective.” Henny’s tone was brusque. “He might listen to you. After all, you scarcely knew her, but you saw quite a bit of her in the days before she died. You can describe her state of mind. What upsets me the most is that the report will be released and there will be a story in the Gazette .”
    A chair scraped. Laurel popped up to stand on the seat and survey the rectangle of space on the left side of the fireplace. She stood on tiptoe to tape a photograph of a thick-furred, piebald Siberian Forest cat, its white front a brilliant contrast to a charcoal head and back. In a side view, the cat’s broad face appeared almost angelic. Always try a smile first.
    If Laurel poached on the space for the mystery paintings, there would be a line drawn in the sand. “A story about what?”
    “The official pronouncement of cause of death: suicide.”
    Annie gripped the cell. “Suicide?” Pat’s days at Death on Demand whirled through her mind. In particular, she remembered Wednesday afternoon when they’d visited over coffee about mysteries. “I don’t think that’s possible. I’ll talk to Billy.”
    B illy Cameron, tall, sturdy, and muscular, pushed back his office chair and stood. “Hey, Annie. What can I do for you?” His thick sandy hair held traces of white. His strong face was genial, but it was ever and always a cop’s face, with an underlying toughness, eyes that had seen the worst of pain and injury and death, a mouth that could tighten into a hard line of confrontation.
    Annie sat on one of two hard wooden chairs that faced his desk.
    Billy settled in his chair, looking large and official.
    She began without preamble. “Pat Merridew worked at Death on Demand.”
    He glanced at her, his blue eyes thoughtful, then pulled a green folder from a stack, flipped it open. “She was fired from the law firm. She started to work at the bookstore two weeks later. She was in your employ for four days.”
    Annie knew that Billy always did his homework. His dispassionate tone suggested Pat Merridew’s file was complete.
    Annie scooted to the edge of the hard wooden seat. “Billy, I think it is very unlikely that Pat Merridew committed suicide.”
    Billy arched one eyebrow. “You knew her well?”
    Annie made an impatient gesture. “I scarcely knew her. I’m not here as a friend. I’m here with specific information that, to my mind, suggests she didn’t end her own life.”
    Billy folded his arms, but asked politely, “What information do you have?”
    Annie could read body language. Billy’s mind was closed. He was asking politely, but his voice was distant. She spoke quietly. “Pat knew very little about mysteries. I gave her some Agatha Christies to read. Billy, two days before she died, we sat at the coffee bar.” Pat had made the drinks under Annie’s tutelage, two iced lattes. “Pat thumbed through her copy of Towards Zero and found the passage where Superintendent Battle figured out the truth about his daughter’s confession. Pat thought that was really clever on his part. I told her my favorite passage was when a young nurse spoke with a would-be suicide bitter at having been saved. The nurse said, ‘It may be just by being somewhere—not doing anything—oh, I can’t say what I mean, but you might just—just walk along a street someday and just by doing that accomplish something terribly important—perhaps without even knowing what it was.’ ”
    “Good book,” Billy said mildly.
    Annie nodded in agreement. “One of Christie’s best. But that’s not the point. Pat said, ‘I wouldn’t make a guy a hero who tried to commit suicide. He should have sucked up his guts, gotten on with life.’ That sure doesn’t sound like someone who’s thinking about suicide. I don’t know anything about how Pat died. But if she didn’t die from natural causes, then I think her death had to be an accident. Or murder.” She threw out the last without conviction. Who would want to