Play Dead by David Rosenfelt Read Free Book Online Page B

she do?” I ask.
    “She lived with Richard.”
    “I mean for a living.”
    “She lived with Richard,” she repeats, and I think I detect some annoyance or bitterness or something.
    “And you’re not aware of any problems between them?” I ask.
    “No,” she says, a little too quickly.
    “Karen, I’m going to try and learn everything I can about what happened to Richard and Stacy. It is the only way I have any chance of accomplishing anything. If you know something, anything, that you don’t share with me, you’re hurting your brother.”
    “I don’t know anything,” she says. “They just didn’t seem to fit together.”
    “How so?”
    “Richard is a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of person. He always lets people inside, sometimes before he should. But that is just his way.”
    “And Stacy?” I ask.
    Karen shrugs. “I couldn’t read her. It’s like she had a wall up. I mean, she was friendly and pleasant, and she seemed to care about Richard, but—”
    “But something didn’t fit,” I say.
    She nods. “Right. I kept waiting for a phone call saying they were splitting up. They were engaged, but I just had a feeling they wouldn’t be together long-term.” She shakes her head sadly. “But I sure never figured it would end this way.”
    If there’s one common denominator among everybody that a defense attorney meets in the course of handling a murder case, it’s that no one “figured it would end this way.” But it always does.
    “Richard mentioned a house, a boat, and a cabin. Did he have a lot of money back then?”
    “No. Our parents left the house and cabin to us; they weren’t worth that much.”
    “Where were they?”
    “The house was in Hawthorne; we sold that to pay for his defense. The cabin is in upstate New York, near Monticello. We kept it, but I never go there.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’m waiting for Richard to go with me,” she says.
    “And the boat?” I ask.
    “Richard bought that. It was his favorite thing in the world… except for Reggie.”
    Karen asks if I’ll stop and get a pizza on the way home, the type of request that I basically will grant 100 percent of the time. She orders it with thick crust; it’s not my favorite, but pizza is pizza.
    Tara and Reggie are there to greet us when we arrive home. I think Tara is enjoying the company, though she would never admit it. She’s used the situation to extract extra biscuits out of me, but I’m still grateful that she’s being a good sport.
    We eat the pizza, and I notice that Karen does not eat the crust, instead tearing pieces off and putting them to the side. It surprises me because I always do the same, since Tara loves the crusts. She tells me that she’s saving her pieces for Reggie, but asks if we can delay giving out these baked treats for a few minutes.
    Karen lets me know that she is about to prove Richard’s ownership of Reggie. She seems nervous about it and prefaces it with a disclaimer that what she is about to get him to do, he has only done for Richard. Karen expresses the hope I won’t read any possible failure as evidence that she and Richard are wrong.
    She grabs the empty pizza box and takes Reggie out the front door, and then comes back in without him or the box, closing the door behind her. She leads me over to a window from where we can see him sitting patiently on the porch, just outside the door.
    Suddenly, Karen loudly calls out, “Pizza dog’s here!”
    As I watch, Reggie hears this as well, and he stands on his back legs, rocking forward to the door. He puts his paw up and rings the doorbell, then goes back to all fours. He picks up the pizza box in his teeth and waits patiently for the door to open. Karen laughs with delight that Reggie remembered his cue. She lets him back in, and then he and Tara dine on the crusts.
    It’s a good trick—not brilliant, but it totally supports Karen and Richard’s claim. Reggie is Richard’s dog, I have no doubt about that.
    Now