The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker Read Free Book Online

fourth wall. There was a fire going, and the room was warm and smelled of woodsmoke. Mrs. Orchard was standing when I came in. She was darkly tanned (not Miami, I thought, West Palm Beach, probably) and wearing a white pants suit and white boots. Her hair was shag cut and tipped with silver, and the skin on her face was very tight over her bones. She had silver nail polish and wore heavy Mexican-looking silver earrings. A silver service and a covered platter on a mahogany tea wagon stood near the fire. A chiffon stole was draped over the back of the couch, and a novel by Joyce Carol Oates lay open on the coffee table.
    As I walked toward her she stood motionless, one hand extended, limp at the wrist; toward me. I felt as if I were walking into a window display.
    "Mr. Spenser," she said. "It's very nice of you to come."
    "That's okay," I said.
    I didn't know what to do with her hand, shake it or kiss it. I shook it, and the way she looked made me suspect I'd chosen wrong.
    "My husband had to go into the office for a bit; he should be back soon."
    I said, "Uh huh."
    "He might have stopped off at the club for handball and a rubdown. Rolly works very hard to stay in shape."
    "Uh huh."
    "What do you do, Mr. Spenser? You look to be in excellent condition. Do you work out?"
    "Not at the club," I said.
    "No," she said. "Of course not."
    I took off my coat. "May I sit down?" I said.
    "Oh, I'm sorry, of course, sit down. Will you have some coffee, or tea? I had some sandwiches made up. Would you like one?"
    "No, thank you, I ate before I came. I'll take coffee though, black."
    "You must pardon me, Mr. Spenser; my manners are really much better. It's just that I've never been involved with policemen and all. And I have never really spoken to a private detective before. Are you carrying a gun?"
    "I thought I'd risk West Newton without one," I said.
    "Yes, of course. You're sure you won't have a sandwich?"
    "Look, Mrs. Orchard, I spent most of last night with your daughter and a corpse. I spent the rest of last night with your daughter and the cops. The last I knew she was in jail for murder. Your husband says she's home. Now he and you didn't get me out here to make sure I was eating properly. What do you want?"
    "My husband will be along soon, Mr. Spenser; he'll explain. Rolly handles these things. I do not."
    She looked straight at me as she talked and leaned forward a little. She had large blue eyes, and she wore eye shadow, I noticed. I bet the eyes got her a lot that she wanted. Especially when she looked right at you and leaned forward a little as she talked. She turned slightly on the couch and tucked one leg under the other, and I got the long line of her thigh and the jut of her sharp breasts. Her body looked lean and tight. A little sinewy for my taste. She kept the pose. I wondered if I was supposed to bark.
    She picked up the book.
    "Do you read much, Mr. Spenser?"
    "Yeah," I said.
    "Do you enjoy Miss Oates?"
    "No."
    "Oh, really? Why on earth not?"
    "I'm probably insensitive," I said.
    "Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Spenser. What little I've heard Terry say of you suggests quite the contrary."
    "Where is Terry?"
    "In her room. Her father has asked that she talk with no one except in his presence."
    "How's she feel about that?"
    "After what she's gotten herself into and what she's putting us through, she's learning to do what she's told."
    There was a triumphant undertone in Mrs. Orchard's voice. I said nothing.
    "Would you put another log on the fire, Mr. Spenser? It seems to be going low; and Rolly always likes a blazing fire when he comes in."
    It was a way of establishing relationships; I thought, as I got a log from the basket and set it on top of the fire-get me to do her bidding. I'd known other women like that. If they couldn't get you to do them little services, they felt insecure. Or maybe she just wanted another log in the fireplace. Sometimes I'm deep as hell.
    The door to the study opened and a man came in. He wore a