Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) by Elaine Macko Read Free Book Online

carrots and salad on the table.
    We ate in silence for a few minutes and then I asked him if he had any information on Humphrey’s death.
    “He had some bruising on his arms and hands. And there was a bruise on his right leg. Looks like he put up a fight. Who wouldn’t?”
    “How did someone manage to hold him down and still get the pickle in his mouth?” I put my fork down and massaged my fingers. I’d been having quite a bit of pain in my hands and my left arm lately, and last week my jaw locked up and I could barely move my mouth. I was pretty sure what it was, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking it would go away and I wouldn’t have to deal with it.
    John stopped eating and looked at me. “Your hands again? Alex, it’s not going to go away. I think we need to go to the doctor and just deal with it.”
    “I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.” I saw the pained looked on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t want to worry you. It’ll be fine.”
    “What time? I’m going with you.”
    “One. Now can we talk about something more appealing, like murder?”
    John kissed my hand and went back to his macaroni. “Humphrey was an old guy, but still, from all the bruising he definitely fought back. He had a large bruise on this left cheek bone and his wrists were both bruised and scratched. I think whoever killed him must have knocked him out with a punch and then put the pickle in his mouth, held his hands, maybe plugged his nose until he was dead.”
    “Did you get a chance to talk with anyone today?” Before I gave up the information I had gathered I wanted to see what the police were able to come up with.
    “The wife. There wasn’t a lot of love between them. And the son, Robert. He showed up to comfort his mother. Again, not a good relationship with his father. I talked with a few of the calendar boys.”
    “You don’t really think any of them had anything to do with this, do you?”
    “Alex, everyone is a suspect until they’re not. And I sent Jim over to talk with Meme.”
    “You interrogated my grandmother? John, what the hell?”
    “Not me, Jim. And she loved it. Theresa was over there and she took a picture of Jim and Meme together. Meme wanted him to cuff her for the shot but he said no.”
    “Geesh.”
    I finished my supper and while John cleaned the kitchen I went upstairs to take a hot bath and several Motrin and hoped that tomorrow I would know for sure what was causing all this pain.

 
     
     
Chapter 12
     
     
    The German Delicatessen, as it was simply named, was already bustling. In addition to their deli counter, they also had a great selection of German pastries and it was for this that most people seemed to be standing in line so early in the morning. When my turn came I ordered enough strudel for the office and then asked to speak with the owner.
    Astrid Kaufman was a spry woman in her seventies. She was solidly built and had her long gray hair in a braid that wrapped around into a tight bun firmly placed at the back of her head.
    She wiped her hands on her apron, smiled, and extended her hand. “How can I help you?”
    “Mrs. Kaufman, my name is Alex Harris and I was the person who found Humphrey Bryson on Saturday night.”
    Mrs. Kaufman put a hand to her heart and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. That must have been a horrible thing for you. Are you related to him?”
    “No, not at all. I was attending the supper with my grandmother. She’s part of the pickleball league. Well, not a player but a viewer, and we also sell a calendar we put together.”
    Astrid Kaufman smiled and pointed to a far wall where a buffet stood with a container of napkins, a milk pitcher, sugar, and both coffee and tea pots. “I also have a copy at home in my kitchen.”
    “Well, thank you for purchasing them. The money we raise goes to some good causes. I’d like to take a moment of your time to ask you a few questions.” We moved over to a small table by the bay window and sat down.