The Haunting Ballad by Michael Nethercott Read Free Book Online Page A

move into the building.”
    â€œSo your cousin liked to collect people who could give her songs,” I said.
    The young woman frowned. “That’s not the kindest way to put it, Mr. Plunkett. Nor accurate, really. Like I’ve told you, Lorraine had a charitable side.”
    â€œSure, it just seems that—”
    Mr. O’Nelligan cut me off at the pass. “Does Mr. Boyle live alone here?”
    â€œYes, he’s amazingly self-sufficient,” Sally Joan said. “Plus, he does have a granddaughter who comes by nearly every day to see to his needs.”
    â€œI believe we glimpsed the gentleman in the hallway not twenty minutes ago. Perhaps we might stop in to see him now.”
    Sally Joan glanced up at a wall clock. “Oh, it’s past four. Lorraine told me that he always takes a nap promptly at four, but maybe you can catch him tomorrow. As you’ll see, he’s still very sharp considering his age.”
    We went over a few more details and arrived at an agreement regarding our fee. Sally Joan gave us a quick tour of the rest of Lorraine’s living space—basically more jumble with a musical theme. Then I asked to see the rooftop.
    *   *   *
    THE THREE OF us stood in the last place where Lorraine Cobble had drawn a breath. The flat roof was a tangle of chimney caps and exhaust vents, surrounded on all sides by the Village’s sea of buildings. I could make out the Hudson River in the near distance. Just as Sally Joan had described, the edges of the rooftop were bordered by a sort of low wall, about two and a half feet high. Even a blind man wouldn’t accidentally step off here into thin air. If Lorraine hadn’t thrown herself off, then someone had definitely assisted her plunge.
    A vigorous wind forced Mr. O’Nelligan and me to clamp down our hats as Sally Joan silently led us over to one edge of the roof. Staring into the alleyway below, we saw nothing but trash cans and a crate or two, but all of us were no doubt picturing the sprawled, shattered body that had lain there two weeks before.
    Mr. O’Nelligan was the first of us to step away from the edge. When I eventually turned, I saw him paused in the middle of the roof, framed against the cloud-streaked sky. He stood there alone, eyes shut and lips slightly moving, and I realized that he was offering up a prayer.
    And, knowing him, a vow.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    Â 
    After leaving our newly minted client, we decided to track down Minnie Bornstein, the dead woman’s former associate, since her shop was only a few minutes’ walk from there. First, though, I wanted to talk with the detective who had investigated Lorraine’s death. Of course, I could have made the call from the apartment, but I preferred not having Sally Joan’s big earnest eyes trained on me as I did it.
    â€œWell, what think you?” Mr. O’Nelligan asked as we walked on in search of a phone booth. “Based on what we’ve heard thus far?”
    â€œI think I should have firmly begged off of this case, that’s what I think. But no, I had to cave in like a mine shaft. My guess is we’ll poke around for a couple days, learn a whole heap of nothing, and report back empty-handed. What the hell, I suppose we’ll get to pocket a few bucks for our troubles.” Remembering my friend’s refusal to accept compensation, I added, “At least I will.”
    â€œAh, now, I know you’re not as mercenary as you make out, Lee Plunkett. Do you truly see nothing of merit in Miss Cobble’s speculations?”
    â€œWhat speculations? All I heard was a kid cousin’s reluctance to accept her idol’s suicide.”
    â€œI’m not sure that Sally Joan quite idolized her. After all, she did acknowledge her cousin’s shortcomings.”
    â€œYeah, well, it’d be hard not to. From my limited observation of Lorraine Cobble, I’d say she was one difficult