Organize Your Corpses by Mary Jane Maffini Read Free Book Online Page B

wearing that familiar smirk, I decided not to give her any satisfaction. I did my best to find the state known as calm, cool, and collected. She was followed by a red-faced, middle-aged man. His shirt gaped between the buttons when he sat down. He smelled slightly of coffee and doughnuts. Well, maybe I just imagined that. Did I also imagine that he gave me a tiny, sympathetic smile?
    At a nod from Pepper, he got up again, turned on his heel, and left the room, taking his imaginary sympathy with him. He wasn’t gone long. The next time the door opened, he’d returned with three cups of coffee, packets of cream and sugar, and little stir sticks. Perhaps the encounter would be all right after all. It was only a statement. I suppose there was a good reason to tape-record it.
    Despite the coffee, Pepper’s mood declined as the morning wore on. For starters, she kept rubbing her ankle. For another, she asked me the same questions dozens of different ways. I gave my statement and gave it again. And then I got to give it again. It came out pretty much the same way every time. Different details and emphasis, maybe. But no contradictions. Lucky me, I’d been telling the truth. What did she want from me? What did she think had happened?
    “Why am I here, Pepper?”
    “How about I ask the questions and you answer them?” she said.
    That set the tone.
    It was a long morning. At least ten times, I mentioned the documents that Miss Henley had wanted. “If there is something odd about her death, it has to be connected to them,” I added. In case she hadn’t picked up on this the first nine times.
    “Get real. This is a police investigation,” she said, “not a made-for-TV movie for kids.” Then to add insult to injury, she stifled a yawn. That really bothered me, because I was the one who had a right to be bored. Pepper could just get up and leave.
    Finally she did. I waited for her to say, “Don’t leave town.” But all I got was, “You’ll be hearing from us.”
    I didn’t doubt it.
    Five minutes after Pepper left the room, the rumpled detective showed up and thanked me for my time. I found myself cut loose, wondering if the whole interview had just been a power trip from Pepper. I skittered along the hallway, craving fresh air and feeling like a felon. I kept my eyes down until I got out of the building, in case I ran into Pepper again, or equally bad, her husband, the well-known himbo, Nick Monahan.
    I used my cell phone to call Jack, but he was already waiting across the street. He seemed very informal compared to the passing uniformed officers. But if he found it cold in those biking shorts, you would never have known it. He leaned against the Miata, grinned, and tossed me the keys.
    “Thanks, Jack.”
    “Hey, what are friends for?” he said, unstrapping his bike, which he had managed to secure to my roof. “I couldn’t reach Margaret. She was in court in Albany. But speaking of friends, I dropped Sweet Marie and Truffle off at Sally’s, in case Pepper succumbed to her mean streak and sent the animal control officer in.”
     
As rattled as I was, I knew that the best strategy was to just keep going. I headed for Sally’s place. She needed my help with her toy jungle, and I needed her project to keep my mind off Miss Henley’s death and the police station.
    No one answered when I arrived. I could hear kiddy music blaring and the children shrieking, even from outside. Sally’s doorbell plays “The Farmer in the Dell,” but apparently that wasn’t enough to attract attention over preexisting conditions. I peered through the glass side panels into the foyer and kept my finger on the bell. At ring number thirteen, Benjamin limped through the toy-strewn entrance to the front door. He glanced up in surprise and smiled when he saw it was me.
    “Your doorbell might not be working,” I said. “Oh, I see you have your MP3 player on.”
    Benjamin held the door as I entered the toy-festooned foyer. “That