First Murder by Fred Limberg Read Free Book Online Page A

fight?”
    “Am I in some kind of trouble?” Erin frowned.
    “If you ask me one more question I’ll arrest you for blatant curiosity. Would you like that?”
    “There’s no such thing…is there?” Tony laughed out loud. She still didn’t get it.
    “What time Monday morning did you throw Gregg out?”
    “8:30? Maybe 9:00?”
    “You’re not sure?”
    “What business is it of yours?” Erin shot back petulantly.
    “What if I told you it would provide an alibi for a suspect in a murder investigation?”
    “An alibi? What did Gregg do? Is he in jail or something?”
    “Did I say this was about Gregg?”
    “Who’s alibi? What murder?”
    “What time, Erin?” Tony barked. Enough was enough. He needed to get things moving.
    “8:30!”
    “Thank you. Now see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
    “I am so confused.”
    “I believe you. Thanks.” Tony walked away, leaving the girl shaking her head on the steps. He couldn’t resist, turned, and said over his shoulder, “If you’re on the outs with Gregg the guy next door, David, he thinks you’re hot.”
    “Is he the big guy or the red head?” she called after him. He chuckled all the way to the car and halfway back to the station.

Chapter 6
    S cott Fredrickson Sr. sat on the edge of the bed, wearing the same crumpled slacks and dress shirt. He had what looked like two day’s growth of beard and a lifetime left of sadness on his face. Ray had gotten a call from Ted Lipka en route. Fredrickson’s plane had been held hostage on the Phoenix airport tarmac by a warning light in the cockpit that took over five hours to be resolved. Alibi confirmed.
    That could be worth a cussin’, Ray thought, and it explained the odd, brutally late arrival time. Scott Fredrickson didn’t drive the knife into his wife’s heart. Ray had to keep open the possibility that he could have paid someone to have it done, but the more he heard from the distraught man the less he believed it could have happened that way.
    Chilled refreshing October air was locked out of the hotel room. It was stuffy and close. It smelled of fear and sweat. Fredrickson shrugged when Carol asked if she could record the session. He signed off on his right to counsel and had yet to hesitate answering their questions in any manner.
    They revisited the conversation of the early morning hours outside the house. Deanna had, in his words, been a saint. She volunteered for the hospital and for the food bank. She had a strong loving relationship with both children. She had a group of friends, lifelong friends. They laughed and teased and supported each other through good times and bad.
    “Who would want to kill Deanna?” Scott asked. “Why?”
    Ray suggested they take a short break. He needed to think. He needed some fresh, crisp air.
    He needed a motive.
    It was time to start asking some hard questions. Carol joined him on the small balcony and lit a cigarette. Ray caught a whiff of the smoke and even after fifteen years had the urge to ask for one.
    “You think he can handle what’s next?” Carol said, blowing a huge plume of smoke and frost fog into the breeze. She had been on the job for almost twenty years. Her jacket chronicled her years on patrol, a long stint in sex crimes, and now almost five years in the CAP Homicide Unit. She had some commendations in there along with a pair of reprimands. She was tough. Ray was glad she was along for this interview and knew what she meant. Some hard questions were coming.
    Sometimes Ray felt like they were piling on, and this one was just getting started.
    “Was your wife having an affair, Mr. Fredrickson?” Scott pursed his lips, gazed off to a bare spot on the wall for a long minute.
    “No.” It came out as a simple statement of fact.
    “Are
you
?” Scott’s head swiveled toward Ray. Even reddened his eyes were brilliant blue.
    “No.” There was no evasion to the question there.
    Carol took a turn. “Were you and your wife having any financial