Thai Die by Monica Ferris Read Free Book Online

wanting this for a long time—no way was I going to back out! I can’t wait to get started. But thank Godwin for the offer to help, I’ll probably take him up on it.”
    Lena left amid a murmur of congratulations only slightly tinged by envy. Then the watchers rejoined the rest of the shoppers.
    In about half an hour, Mike came down, followed by Phil and Doris. Phil was looking angry, Doris distraught. “I’m taking her home with me,” Phil announced, and marched off with her.
    “Good idea,” said Betsy, and watched them go. Poor Doris , she thought, wondering if the burglar had taken all her lovely souvenirs. And poor Phil, too .
    “I want to talk to you,” Mike said.
    “All right. But I don’t think I can tell you anything much. Do you want to talk in Doris’s apartment?”
    “No, the sheriff’s department is still working the scene. Let’s just go into the back hall.”
    “All right. I can get you a cup of coffee as we go through.”
    “Thanks.” She and Mike threaded their way through the maze of customers and display racks to the back of the shop. This was where counted cross-stitch patterns and supplies were displayed, and there were far fewer people there. Through another door they went into a small back room where Betsy kept stock that needed frequent replenishing and where a coffee urn and tea kettle stayed warm. They paused briefly while she filled a cup with coffee, black, for Mike, then went through yet another door into a back hall.
    There, she turned and found him looking at her with chilly blue eyes. In the past several years, he had gone from active dislike of Betsy’s sleuthing efforts to wary admiration. But no admiration was visible now; Mike was seeing her as a possible witness, maybe even a hostile one.
    He asked, “When did you see Ms. Valentine last?”
    “Yesterday, Friday. She came in to tell me she’d delivered a stone statue of the Buddha to an antiques shop in St. Paul.”
    “Did she say she had any trouble with the owner of the store?”
    “No. She said he examined the statue very carefully, because she had opened the box it came in and showed it to us and he was afraid that it might have been damaged. But he saw it was fine, and then he thanked her for bringing it all that way from Thailand to America.”
    “Anything else?”
    Betsy thought. “Well, she said the person who was going to buy the statue might have been waiting for it, because when she got back to her own car a woman got out of a Hummer parked in front of the shop and went in. She thought the woman might have been waiting for her to leave.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at Malloy. “What’s this about, Mike?”
    “How long has Ms. Valentine lived in that apartment?”
    “Nearly six years.”
    “Any trouble with her?”
    “None. She’s very quiet, pays her rent on time, doesn’t give loud parties, doesn’t break things. Plus she’s nice, a little shy but sweet.”
    “Does she normally go off without telling anyone where she’s going?”
    “No, at least not for more than an overnight trip somewhere. She has a cat—oh!”
    “What?”
    “Is the cat all right? She was looking so upset when she came down just now . . .”
    “He’s fine. He was hiding in the back of her bedroom closet. Not a mark on him.”
    “That’s good.” Betsy smiled. “I suppose I shouldn’t have worried—she named him Waldo because he can be very hard to find.”
    “The deputies are very good seekers.” Was his thin mouth tweaking because he was amused? Or was he trying not to show annoyance? He finished making a note, then asked, “Who was closest to her, family or friend? Besides Mr. Galvin, that is.”
    Betsy had to think about that. “Well, I guess her best friend is Carmen Diamond. I don’t know Carmen very well. Shelly does—they’re both schoolteachers, and they both have dogs. Carmen’s not a stitcher, so I think I’ve maybe talked to her twice.”
    “Do you have her address or phone