Death on a Silver Platter by Ellen Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

long-ago love for Nathan Buckridge remained fixed in the deepest part of her being, a spidery silhouette of what once existed but could never be again. Perhaps that feeling, related as it was to both defeat and resignation, would never go away. Revisiting the past, however, attempting to make it live again, was a fool’s journey. And Sophie wasn’t a fool.
    She hoped.
    On her way through the lobby of the hotel, she hoisted up Ethel, the black mutt who had shared Bram’s and her life for almost a decade. Ethel had become the de facto hotel mascot. She sat on a large paisley pillow in the downstairs lobby eyeing the guests with disdainful ennui. Because she moved more slowly than any other living being and was therefore no threat to anyone, because she had great tolerance—not to be confused with affection— for all life forms, and finally, because she could lie comfortably for hours at a time with only an occasional twitch to prove she wasn’t dead, she was perfectly suited for the job. The hotel staff took turns taking her for walks so she could perform her daily ablutions. All in all, Sophie figured it was a pretty good life for a dog.
    When the elevators opened, Sophie stepped off and set Ethel down on the hallway carpet. Ethel was putting on weight in her old age. She liked to be cuddled and carried, but Sophie was tired, stuffed with food, and in no mood for weight lifting. Unlocking the door to her apartment, she waited for Ethel to amble inside. It was going on ten. Sophie had assumed that Bram would be home by now, but since Ethel was in the lobby, it meant he was still out. That was fine with Sophie. She needed a little time to relax and unwind. She would take a shower, then make herself a Campari and soda, and spend a few more minutes forgetting about Nathan.
    Walking into the living room and tossing her purse on the couch, Sophie saw that Bram’s checkbook was lying open on the coffee table. That was odd. She picked it up, thinking that he’d forgotten to put it away. She was about to open the top drawer of his desk when she saw that the inside door to the balcony was open. She could hear Bram’s voice talking softly, but because all the lights were off outside, she couldn’t see the person he was talking to. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted in through the screen. Out of curiosity, Sophie glanced at the receipt from the last check Bram had written. It was to his daughter, Margie, for ten thousand dollars.
    Sophie pushed through the screen door out onto the patio.
    “The Prodigal finally returns,” said Bram, standing up to greet her. He kissed her lightly, then nodded to his daughter who was leaning against the iron railing. The lights of downtown St. Paul spread out behind her.
    “This is a surprise,” said Sophie, giving Margie a welcoming hug.
    For the past few years, Margie Baldric had lived in Austin, Texas. Prior to that, she’d gone to college at St. Cloud University in central Minnesota, where she received her B.A. in computer science. She’d lived with Bram and Sophie early in their marriage, when they had a house in the Tangletown area of south Minneapolis. Margie didn’t enter college until a couple of years after high school. Bram didn’t want to push her. He felt it would be better if she found her own way. During her first three years at St. Cloud, she’d lived with her boyfriend, Lance, but had dumped him her senior year in favor of a new boyfriend, Kurt Melling. Kurt was also getting his degree in computer science. After graduation, they’d moved to Austin, his hometown.
    Margie wrote occasionally. She called a couple of times a year. But her favorite form of communication was e-mail. That’s how she and her father kept in touch. Margie was a fiercely independent young woman, with an abundance of spunk, strongly voiced opinions, and intolerances. Sophie found her somewhat arrogant and hard to read, but still, she admired her determination.
    Early in their relationship, Sophie