Murder in the Air by Marilyn Levinson Read Free Book Online

over to the clubhouse to swim laps. Home again, she treated herself to a brunch of blueberry pancakes and yogurt, then decided to pay some bills before picking up Barbara and heading for a library book sale in a nearby town. Afterward, if they felt like it, they’d take in a foreign film and have a light dinner out. This was what widows did—planned excursions with their single friends. There was nothing wrong with it. She enjoyed Barbara’s company, her humorous comments and witty observations. She simply missed being with a man.
    Reggie jumped onto the desk. She stroked his red flank absently as she wrote out a check for her electric bill. How could one person—okay, one person and a cat—run up such a large bill? She’d call PSEG Monday morning and have them explain exactly how they’d arrived at this inflated figure.
    The sound of a siren sent Lydia leaping to her feet. Now what? She rushed to the front door and looked about, hoping another of her neighbors wasn’t being rushed off to the emergency room. Her heart gave a jolt when she spotted an ambulance double-parked in front of Evelyn and Daniel’s house. The van and car in the driveway prevented it from getting any closer. She stepped outside in time to see two EMTs bringing a patient out through the front door. Lydia gasped. It was Daniel, his eyes closed, his skin pale and moist with sweat.
    Polly dashed out of the house, followed by her husband and daughters.
    “What happened?” Lydia asked as she caught up with Polly climbing into a car.
    Polly shook her head. “We don’t know. Dad said he was in pain. He suddenly collapsed.”
    Car doors slammed and they drove off. Arnold and his family piled into the van and followed after them. Denise and Bennett paused to light cigarettes then walked toward the red Corvette taking up two spots in front of the house. It figures, Lydia thought—both the make of the car and the way it was parked. Denise said something to her son then stepped into the street to speak to a man at the wheel of a black Honda. When he stuck his head out of the window, Lydia caught sight of his impressive mustache. It had to be Stefano. What was he doing here on a Sunday?
    One of the EMTs helped Evelyn into the back of the ambulance and closed the doors. A moment later they were gone, the sound of the siren fading as the ambulance raced to the hospital.
    Lydia forced herself to wait half an hour to allow for traveling time and the admissions procedure, and then she called the ER at Brookhaven, the hospital closest to Twin Lakes. The first few calls got her nowhere. On the third try, she said she was a relative and was told to wait a minute. There were various sounds—calls over the PA system, nurses chatting. Then someone answered the phone and, in a pleasant male voice, asked who she was. Lydia lied and said she was Daniel’s niece, and very concerned about his condition. The young man, no doubt a doctor, told her, his tone kind and respectful, that he was very sorry but the patient, Mr. Korman, had expired.
    “You mean he’s dead?” Lydia shouted, incredulous. “What happened?”
    “We’re not certain. Most likely a coronary, from the way his family members described his pains.”
    “Will there be an autopsy?” Lydia demanded. “Daniel, I mean Uncle Daniel, was a very healthy man for his age.”
    “A coronary can strike anyone at any age,” the doctor replied. “And who is this I’m speaking to?”
    Lydia hung up, trembling with sorrow and rage and a sense of dread that made her want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head.
    *
    Daniel was buried on Monday afternoon. Lydia drove Barbara and two other women to the funeral home for the service, and then joined the caravan of cars to the cemetery. Lydia’s heart went out Evelyn, who, beset by grief and exhaustion, looked even more petite buoyed up by her daughter and son-in-law. Gayle and Roger had flown up from Atlanta to offer their support. They stood on either