Holidays Can Be Murder: A Charlie Parker Christmas Mystery by Connie Shelton Read Free Book Online Page A

beside her, bloody, couple of smudgy prints on the handle but it looks like it was wiped down. She was lying in one corner of the couch. Could have been innocently napping or something. The blow caught her in the temple, so it’s also possible that she saw her attacker and was standing when she was hit. Could have just fallen in that position.”
    “There’s been a strange car in the neighborhood,” Drake mentioned. “Let me get the license number.” He headed for the kitchen.
    “True,” I said. “Paula’d had some bad relationships in the past—ex-husband in California and all. Maybe somebody tracked her down here.”
“Yeah, I’ve got the ex’s name,” Kent said.
Drake handed him the note with the plate number on it. “New Mexico plate,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Kent set his mug on the tray and reached for his overcoat. “We’ll know more tomorrow.”
“Do you plan to do drug or alcohol tests on Paula?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow.
    “Paula drank quite heavily. And from her erratic behavior, I wouldn’t be surprised if some drugs were in the mix too.” I shrugged. “Just a thought.”
    “I’m sure they’ll look at all that during autopsy.”
    Drake walked him to the door and Catherine, who’d been yawning for the past half-hour, excused herself to go back to bed. I felt wired. No way would I fall asleep anytime soon.
    “I’m going over there,” I told Drake.
    He started to make some mild protests, but didn’t get very far with it. “Okay. I think I’ll switch on the bedroom TV for awhile. See you whenever.”
    I pulled on my down jacket and stepped outside. The air was still, the night black. All the official vehicles had left and the snoopy neighbors had long since tucked back in and turned out their lights. Only our house and the Garfield’s showed any sign of activity. Yellow tape still circled their side yard, protecting the patches of snow that hadn’t yet melted. I blew out a deep breath, watching the white vapor puff into the darkness, then headed for the front sidewalk. I tapped tentatively on their front door.
    “Oh, Charlie!” Wilbur seemed surprised to see me but ushered me in immediately. He wore pale gray pajamas with a tiny pattern on them, topped with a blue and red plaid robe. “Come into the kitchen. I’m trying to get Judy to have some hot chocolate.”
    His face seemed drawn, with a set of age lines I hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were red-rimmed with dark smudges beneath. I followed him into the kitchen. Judy was rummaging through an upper cabinet, her back to the door, her quick movements masking the small whoosh of the swinging door. She was also clad in her nightwear—flannel floor-length gown with flannel ruffles at the cuffs and neck.
    “Honey, Charlie’s here,” Wilbur murmured.
    She jumped visibly at the sound of his voice. A mug clattered to the counter top and she automatically reached out to catch it.
    “Charlie! Oh, god, I’m glad you’re here.” She left the mug lying on its side and slumped into a chair at the maple dining table. “I just can’t think . . . I mean, I just don’t know what . . .” Her fingers fidgeted with the top button of her gown at the base of her throat.
“I know,” I said gently. Wilbur patted her on the shoulder as I sat down beside her. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened.”
They both nodded.
“Did the police have any answers for you?”
“Nothing yet,” Wilbur volunteered.
    “I couldn’t keep up with them,” Judy added. “I think they went all over the house and spread black powder on everything. I haven’t had a chance to check. It’s going to be a mess to clean up.” She rubbed her index finger around in tiny circles on the table’s shiny wood finish.
“Let me get us some hot chocolate,” Wilbur offered. “The milk’s already hot.”
“None for me, thanks. We just drank a couple at home.”
He went to the stove and busied himself with the mix and the milk, making two