Simple by Kathleen George Read Free Book Online

drinker—
    All that smiling and ridiculous hand-holding and looking at zinnias and all the while she couldn’t love him. Why was it everyone else could love him? People called him day and night; the boys adored him; Elinor loved him. Monica was supposed to be thrilled with her life, the big catch, the handsome senator-governor-who-knew-where-it-would-all-end, and she didn’t want any of it. She didn’t love him. They were past tense.
    And she was trapped.
    They had sons, a life. Expectations.
    She poured a glass of white wine and forced it down. Her head began to throb. Her body went numb. She had to figure out how to magically resurrect the feelings she had for Mike at the beginning—feelings stored somewhere in the bank of memories in her muddled head.
    She got up and finished rinsing glasses—fast and sloppily. A glass fell into the sink as she grabbed it too hastily. Oddly it didn’t break.
    She took the rest of the bottle of white wine to her husband, who sat in the TV room, changing channels and talking on the phone. He ended the call.
    â€œWho was that?” she asked.
    â€œMy father. The idea is to keep me out of any news reports or commentary. Low profile.”
    â€œBut did you know her?”
    â€œOnly a little. Passing in the hallways. I had trouble remembering her name.”
    â€œCassie.”
    â€œI know it now.”
    â€œIt’s very sad.”
    â€œYes. Totally … disturbing. I can’t believe it.”
    â€œYou didn’t know her?”
    â€œNo. Not really. And … you think Elinor’s son…?”
    â€œHe must have said something when he called Elinor. She was very upset. This Cassie lived near him?”
    He nodded. “Paul Wesson’s properties. People who are willing to commit to fixing them up.”
    â€œI remember.”
    He kept switching channels. The ten o’clock news came on.
    The woman was pretty. Beautiful. The police wouldn’t reveal anything. They did that police-speak, saying the investigation was just under way.
    Her husband cried.
    *   *   *
    CHRISTIE HAD DROPPED the kids off, then Marina and various pieces of luggage, and then gone to Headquarters, where he picked up a few facts by reading the early reports on his computer. There wasn’t much there yet, only the bare facts of the case: 911 call from Cal Hathaway, who’d been working on the porch, then the alarm clock beeping, then the discovery of the body.
    â€œWhat’s up?” he asked Janet Littlefield, who was at her desk.
    â€œColeson and McGranahan are questioning this guy Cal Hathaway right now,” Detective Littlefield told him. “They’ve been at him most of the day. They told me, ‘He doesn’t play with a full deck.’”
    â€œWhich room are they in?”
    â€œB.”
    Christie fought with himself. He didn’t want to intrude. He did want to. He passed into the viewing room and watched his men question a young man who was wide-eyed, seemingly polite, very shaken.
    Coleson and McGranahan, as if they sensed Christie, announced a break. They came to the viewing room to greet him.
    â€œIt’s going okay?” he asked.
    â€œWe’re being thorough.”
    â€œTell me about the woman.”
    â€œGetting ready to go to law school,” Coleson said. “Pretty.”
    â€œWho told her family?”
    McGranahan said, “I sent Greer to tell the parents. She’s getting good at that sort of thing.”
    â€œShe’s here?”
    â€œYeah, I have her questioning some of the peripheral people down in the conference room.”
    â€œYou suspect this Cal?”
    â€œI do,” said Coleson. “We’re checking out his house. He had a case on the girl.”
    â€œHmm.”
    Christie found Colleen Greer in the conference room writing up notes between witnesses, so he said, “Tell me. What happened? You saw the parents? You told