Death on Beacon Hill by P.B. RYAN Read Free Book Online Page A

like it was, so Skinner won’t know we were rummaging through it.”
    “You agree with me, don’t you?” she persisted. “The inquest’s conclusion is flawed.”
    “Even if it is, that doesn’t mean Fiona Gannon was some innocent scapegoat. You want to think that because she was Irish and you’re fond of her uncle, but in my experience, them that meet with bloody ends usually had it comin’.”
    “Her being Irish made it easier for Skinner and Baldwin to sell their version of events to the inquest jury,” Nell said as she arranged the clothes in the carton the way she’d found them. “Fiona Gannon was just another thieving little Mulligan. A murderess, too, but at least Virginia Kimball saved the Commonwealth of Massachusetts the trouble of hanging her.”
    “If you’re wantin’ me to investigate this case,” Cook said, “you can just drop that idea right now. It was Charlie Skinner’s homicide, and as far as he and everybody else in this bureau is concerned, it’s been solved. Never in a million years would Chief Kurtz let me conduct some sort of after-the-fact investigation, knowing how it would set Skinner off. And if you knew what my caseload was like right now, you’d know I don’t have the time for the kind of work it’d take to set this business straight.”
    “If you did have the time,” she asked as she replaced the lid on the carton, “what would you do?”
    Cook stood, joints popping, and handed Nell to her feet. “I’d start off by goin’ to Mrs. Kimball’s funeral tomorrow. Murderers sometimes like to see their victim bein’ sent off—not always, by any means. Not even most of the time. But it’s a place to start.”
    “But it’s a private funeral,” she said. “Doesn’t that mean only family and friends are welcome?”
    “No one will question you if you just walk in like you belong there.”
    “Oh, wait,” she said. “I can’t. Tomorrow’s Thursday. I’ll need to take care of Gracie.”
    “Didn’t you once tell me they have a nanny to share the load?”
    “Nurse Parrish is a million years old. She sleeps most of the afternoon.”
    “The funeral is in the morning.”
    “Will Detective Skinner be there?” she asked.
    “He wasn’t plannin’ to go, but Kurtz is making him, just for show, on account of Mrs. Kimball being so famous and all.”
    Nell chuckled through a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “Interrogate the mourners, see if anything tickles your whiskers.”
    “Interrogate? At a funeral?”
    “They won’t know they’re being interrogated if you do it right. Let them think they’re making small talk. Ask a leading question, then keep your mouth shut. You’d be surprised what folks’ll tell you just to fill in the gaps in a conversation.”
     
     

Chapter 4
     
     
    Nell’s first thought when she entered the Arlington Street Church shortly before ten the following morning was that she must have gotten the time of Virginia Kimball’s funeral wrong. There weren’t enough people here. No more than two dozen heads rose from the sea of pews stretching before her—hardly what one would expect at the funeral of such a notable person.
    Then she noticed the sarcophagus in front of the altar. That was what it looked like from Nell’s vantage point at the rear of the huge sanctuary—a big, elaborately decorated burial chest such as she’d only ever seen in books about ancient Egypt. Adding to its peculiarity was the fact that it was painted white, a color normally reserved for the coffins of children.
    A group of five, a gentleman and four ladies, brushed past her and proceeded up the long center aisle toward the front of the church. They all wore mourning black, as did Nell, whose simple dress with its modish, crinoline-inflated princess skirt was similar to those of three of the ladies. The fourth had on a garment that, viewed from behind, looked for all the world like the kind of loose, sash-tied wrapper that a lady might wear in the privacy