MURDER IN RETROSPECT (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 5) by Leslie Leigh Read Free Book Online Page B

burns?"
                  Beauchenne had a glimmer in his eye. "That's what I said. What's strange about that?"
                  "What's strange is that you didn’t say bruises. In cases of strangulation, the first thing forensics would look at would be the bruises."
                  "Very good, Allie Griffin."
                  "And so when you say, 'sort of,' you mean there were no bruises."
                  "This is why I love you."
                  "I love you too. So he had to have been strangled after he died. There wouldn’t be any bruising that way. Just burns."
                  "That's exactly the case. God, I wish you worked for us."
                  "Huh. There's more to this. Talk to me."
                  "Toxicology found Colchicine in his system."
                  "Never heard of it."
                  "Used to treat gout. Hawkes was a sufferer."
                  "Toxic levels?"
                  "That's just the thing. They weren't exactly toxic levels. They were close. Then again, they were within the range of a prescribed dosage, if on the high end. Either someone poisoned him and wanted it to look like a strangling, or someone strangled him not realizing he was already dead from a Colchicine build-up in his system. We're not sure."
                  "I'm guessing he'd been on the stuff for a while?"
                  "Yup."
                  "And Colchicine is easily found in hospitals, in case he wanted more," said Allie.
                  "Yup."
                  "There's more, isn't there?"
                  "There is."
                  "Talk to me."
                  Beauchenne removed his hat and rubbed the top of his head.
                  "I know that," said Allie. "You're stalling because you don’t want to tell me something."
                  Beauchenne took a deep breath and said, "We found a note. It was hidden, but we found it. Tomlin found it."
                  "And...?"
                  "Inside a book of crossword puzzles. Whatever puzzle Hawkes was working on when he died, he scribbled your name as one of the answers in the Across section. It didn't go all the way to the end of the boxes. The penmanship was jagged."
                  "Written in a hurry."
                  "Possibly."
                  "Frank?"
                  "Yes, Allie?"
                  "Look how calm I'm being."
                  "I see and I'm impressed. But you look like you're about to blow."
                  "And why not?" Allie said, feeling something like a rubber band snap inside her. "I’ve got this detective with Milton Bradley credentials looking for anything from watermelon rinds to bookmarks that will implicate me in the murder of my husband, whom I happened to have loved dearly. And now I got this tyrant of a dictator of a bully of a hospital dean murdered and my virtual fingerprints are at the crime scene. Someone is framing me here, either the aforementioned detective, who frankly is too stupid to be flipping burgers without a degree, or the aforementioned hospital dean who faked not knowing who I was when he saw me because he was too much of a coward to face me after all these years of being glad to be rid of my husband. So yes, Frank, I'm about to blow. But I'm going to keep my cool, now, for you."
                  "I appreciate that."
                  "Can I borrow your gun?"
                  "You may not."
                  She drummed an agitated beat on the rail of the bridge and bit the inside of her lip.
                  "Allie," Beauchenne said calmly, "this doesn’t look good, but we're going to get to the