The Silver Anniversary Murder by Lee Harris Read Free Book Online

far. My people are out there visiting banks and stores near where she lived.”
    “She didn’t bank where she lived and she didn’t shop where she lived.” It seemed such a waste of time to me. “This is a woman who’s trying to keep a low profile. She’s not going to walk into supermarkets where a neighbor who knows her as Holly or Mrs. Mitchell might run into her and make small talk that could compromise her.”
    “You could be right—you’ve been right before—but this is the way we generally do it. Dare I ask what you’re up to this bright Monday morning?”
    “I’m checking pharmacies,” I admitted.
    “And none of them will be near the apartment complex.”
    “Not unless I fail farther away.”
    “I’d put my money on your not failing, but please keep me in your loop.”
    “My loop,” I repeated, smiling. “My very little loop. You and me, Joe. Without you in it, it’s a straight line going nowhere.”
    “That’ll be the day.”
    There is nothing more boring than basic detective work. Ask the same questions to fifty different faces and hope one lights up. And then ask more questions. I did this the way I’d done the manicurists on Saturday, checking the yellow pages, sketching a map, driving to the most distant location first. Once again, I thought she might do her drug and cosmetic shopping where she worked, but since that wasn’t confirmed, this was all I had to go on.
    It would be nice to say that I dropped into the right drugstore first, but it didn’t happen that way. I dragged myself from one to another, often showing the picture to several people, as some of the chain pharmacies have many pharmacists working for them—and there was always the chance that the one I wanted was off on Mondays. I presented the picture and gave everyone the two names I had. Some looked at the face intently, which I appreciated; others gave it a cursory glance and turned away with a bored expression. No one recognized her.
    I had drawn a semicircle several miles deep for my canvassing area. It was a semicircle and not a full circle because Oakwood is on the Long Island Sound, not that this made my task any easier; I just increased the distance from the center to the farthest drugstore. A lot of heads shook; no one identified her.
    I stopped for lunch at a restaurant I sometimes take Eddie to, looking at my list as I ate, counting the places that didn’t have check marks next to them. The cops, I thought, had probably found the right one in the first ten minutes of their search, a hundred yards outside the garden apartments, all my theories shot. I sipped iced coffee and thought about what to do. Maybe it wasn’t too late to retrieve the dollar I’d bet.
    I finally decided to check out a privately owned drugstore in the same little strip mall where I’d eaten, even though it was one of the last pharmacies on my list. It was in Oakwood, but it was more than a mile from the Mitchell residence. I went to the counter at the back of the store and asked the young man if he knew the woman in the pictures.
    “The cops were here this morning with the same picture,” he said.
    “And?”
    “And I told them I didn’t know her.”
    “Did they ask anyone else who works in the store?”
    “Mr. Greeves was out when they came in.”
    “Is he here now?” It felt like pulling teeth.
    “Yeah. Wait a minute.”
    I knew Mr. Greeves slightly. When we married, Jack insisted we open an account here. I always resist such ideas, wanting to pay as I go, but he pointed out that medication could be expensive. I found out how right he was the first time Eddie got sick as a baby—and I didn’t have enough in my purse to pay for medicine that I needed right away.
    “Mrs. Brooks, how are you?” Mr. Greeves is a big, graying, friendly man and a lifelong pharmacist. I’m told his father owned this business before him.
    “In good health,” I responded. “I wonder if you recognize this woman.”
    I handed him the sketch of