Homicide Related by Norah McClintock Read Free Book Online

started the engine.
    The front door was unlocked. Dooley pushed it open. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. His uncle was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked up when Dooley appeared in the doorway.
    â€œSit down, Ryan,” he said, still in that flat, tired tone.
    Dooley stayed where he was.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he said. “What were they doing here?”
    â€œIt’s Lorraine.”
    Well, that figured. Lorraine had always had a knack for taking a good day and turning it into crap.
    â€œWhat about her?”
    His uncle stared at him for a moment before finally saying, “She’s dead.”
    Dead?
    â€œWhat happened?” Dooley said.
    â€œThey’re not saying much, but it looks like it’s drug-related.”
    Something else that figured.
    â€œOverdose?”
    It took a moment for his uncle to answer.
    â€œCould be. Or bad drugs. You never know what’s out there.”
    Dooley stood in the doorway between the front hall and the living room for a few moments, absorbing the news.
    Lorraine was dead. That was it. It was over.
    He crossed from the hall into the living room and sank into an armchair opposite his uncle. Bad drugs he could understand. His uncle was right—you never knew what was out there. But an overdose—well, that raised a big question: accidental or intentional? Knowing Lorraine, it was probably the former. But what if it wasn’t that? What if—?
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œLast night.”
    â€œ Last night? How come they’re just telling you now?” As soon as Dooley asked, he realized what a stupid question it was. “She didn’t have you listed as next-of-kin, huh?”
    â€œActually, she did.” His uncle sounded surprised. “But they only found her this morning, and it took them a while to ID her. She didn’t have a purse or wallet on her.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œDowntown.” His uncle stood up. It seemed to be an effort. “They want me to go and identify her.” That explained why the cops hadn’t taken off. They were waiting for Dooley’s uncle. “You want to come?”
    Was his uncle expecting him to say yes? Should he say yes? If he was some other guy with some other mother, he probably would have.
    â€œNo.”
    His uncle nodded. Dooley detected no disappointment, no disapproval, no surprise.
    â€œI could have left it,” he said. “I could have let you finish your shift.”
    But he hadn’t. He’d called and told Kevin to send Dooley home because that’s what you were supposed to do. And now here Dooley was, refusing to play his part.
    â€œIf you want me to come …” he began.
    His uncle shook his head. “I’ll take care of it.” He hesitated. “You think you’ll be okay here by yourself?”
    â€œYeah, sure,” Dooley said. He couldn’t believe it. She was dead.
    He stayed in the chair for a full ten minutes after his uncle left. Jesus, what he wouldn’t do for a drink or a joint, anything to chase away that jangly feeling inside him. He got up and went into the kitchen. His uncle kept his booze in a cupboard above the counter. When he passed it, his hand shook. It would be so easy to reach up and take down a bottle of Jack. His eyes shifted lower, to a bulletin board, everything on it—a calendar, a shopping list, emergency phone numbers, a couple of business cards—all lined up neatly and, beside that, the phone. He grabbed the receiver and punched in Beth’s cell phone number. It had started to ring by the time he realized that he’d punched in her old number, not her new one. He hung up before Beth’s mother 42 could answer, dug in his pocket for the slip of paper she had written the new one on, and tried again.
    He was relieved when Beth answered on the second ring. Then he thought about why his uncle preferred it when Dooley called from a landline. The thing