Justification for Murder by Elin Barnes Read Free Book Online Page B

way, but they’re all suicides.”
    “Did you see anything suspicious at any of the crime scenes?” Jon asked. “I didn’t notice anything from the reports.”
    “No.”
    “Do you think somebody may have tampered with them in any way?”
    “It didn’t seem that way, but anything’s possible.”
    “Do you believe somebody could have killed these three women and left no evidence behind?” Jon pushed.
    “That’s hard to believe. But we don’t have the final evidence report. Something may still come up,” Sorensen said, sounding more hopeful than he felt. “The thing that keeps me awake, besides the images that won’t go away, is why would somebody want to kill these women that way? There are many easier ways to kill somebody, even if you want to make it look like a suicide.”
    “Yeah,” Jon echoed, “why do it this way? Why these women?” Then he added, “I haven’t found any connection between them so far.”
    The GPS in Sorensen’s car was broken. Jon checked his phone. “We’re getting really close. In about two streets, turn right. It should be the second house on the right. The yellow one.”
    Sorensen turned to look at him for longer than was safe. “How the hell do you know the color of the house?”
    “I checked Google’s Street View.”
    He touched the screen of his phone a couple times and showed it to him. A one-story yellow house with white trim was staring back at him.
    “Man, that’s some creepy shit,” Sorensen said and made the first right, still shaking his head.
    “There, that’s the one.” Jon pointed to a modest house with a well-manicured lawn and colorful flowerbeds.
    They walked toward the house. Sorensen took out his small black notebook to double-check the name. When they reached the porch, he put the notebook back in his pocket and stood there. Nobody rang the doorbell. They exchanged glances.
    “What the hell are you waiting for, Jon?”
    When he pressed the bell, musical chimes rang inside the house. They waited. After a couple seconds Jon pushed the button again.
    “I don’t think anybody’s home.”
    “Really?” Sorensen rolled his eyes.
    “Excuse me…?” a voice called from the street.
    They turned toward a small elderly woman with a white poodle.
    “Excuse me? Are you looking for Mrs. Robinson’s daughter?” Before they could respond, she said, “You know that poor Taisha died, right?”
    They walked toward the old lady, Sorensen taking the lead. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Detective Erik Sorensen, and this is Jon Evans. Yes, we knew.”
    He extended his hand. Hers disappeared in his when she took it.
    “Very nice to meet you. I’m Isobel. Isobel Lewis.”
    “Did you know Mrs. Robinson well?” Sorensen asked.
    “Yes, we were best friends. I still cannot believe what she did.” She shook her head, as if trying to push the thought away. “I live right next door. Would you like some tea?”
    “If it’s not too much trouble,” Sorensen said.
    Her house was as modest as Mrs. Robinson’s. The entry walls were covered with flowery paper that was probably a hundred years old. At the end of the narrow hallway there was a tiny, lacquered wooden stand covered by a crochet tablecloth and five small porcelain figurines, all evenly placed.
    “Coats?” Isobel asked, opening the entry closet. It was very full and it smelled musty, as if it stored old treasures that were in dire need of dusting.
    “We’re okay, thank you,” Sorensen said.
    She took off her own jacket and placed it on a hanger that held three other ones. Both men made a gesture to help hang it, but she swiftly inserted it in the crammed closet and closed the door with a soft thud.
    “Cookie, come over here,” Isobel called down the hallway. The dog trotted back wagging her tail. “You don’t want to walk around on a leash all day, do you?” she asked, shaking her head. She removed the leash and hung it on a little hook by the closet door. She then led them to the living