Third Degree (A Murder 101 Mystery) by Maggie Barbieri Read Free Book Online Page B

already clean by my estimation. I took in her pale complexion, beautifully coiffed auburn hair, and in particular, the impressive diamond tennis bracelet dangling from one delicate wrist. She was dressed casually in jeans and a white oxford but I could tell both articles of clothing were very expensive. They didn’t have the look and feel of my similar attire, both items purchased at T.J. Maxx. It was a few uncomfortable minutes before she spoke. I thought that maybe I had made a mistake by coming here.
    “Tell me,” she said, finally finishing up the pitcher and putting it on a stainless-steel dish drainer. “Did he suffer much?” It was at that point that I heard her throat hitch and saw tears fill her eyes. She grabbed a Williams-Sonoma dish towel and pressed it to her face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elaine lurch forward but Lydia held up a hand. “Elaine, please excuse us.”
    Elaine looked none too happy about Lydia’s request but she also looked like she had been taking orders from Lydia for years. Like the little mousy woman that she was, she scurried away and took refuge in another room, where I could hear a muted conversation begin.
    “I’m sorry,” Lydia said after taking the towel away from her face. “She worries about me.” She wiped the counter unnecessarily with the towel; the granite gleamed in the morning sun. “She’s my older sister so she’s used to taking care of me.” She let out a sigh. “Right now? I’d just like to be left alone.”
    I understood. I noticed that the water was still running in the sink even though she had finished washing up. I leaned across the counter and pushed the handle down. “He didn’t suffer,” I lied. Not if you don’t count the massive blow to the head. “Maybe it was a heart attack,” I said, hoping that just one punch to the head couldn’t kill someone. And that was coming from a literature professor, an excellent source for cause of death if there ever was one. “He just fell to his knees and …” I thought of a more appropriate word. “Took his last breath. It was very fast.” More than I wanted to say but it would have to do.
    “Did he say anything?” she asked.
    I searched my memory. Although I thought the experience and every detail of it would be seared in my memory forever, I found myself losing pieces of it already. Was he wearing his glasses when he came back in? Did he ever retrieve the missing shoe? What color was his shirt? It was all a blur. I couldn’t remember if he said anything and I didn’t want to lie and say something like “tell Lydia I love her” because that would just sound too made up. But I couldn’t help myself. “He said, ‘Lydia.’ ” If she ever caught me in the lie, by trying to confirm this detail with Greg or the police officer, I would say that everyone was in a state of shock at the time and that their memories were betraying them.
    “But he didn’t suffer,” she said, more of a statement than a question.
    “No,” I replied. “He didn’t suffer. It happened very quickly.”
    “Because I don’t know what I would do if I thought that he had suffered greatly.” Her gaze returned to the sink.
    “I’m very sorry for your loss.” It was a sentiment that didn’t bear repeating but I had nothing else to contribute.
    She smiled politely, but briefly, and leaned onto the edge of the sink, her sizable bracelet clanging against the side. “What happened to your eye?”
    Again, a lie seemed better than the truth. “A door. Actually, a doorknob.” I shrugged as a way of conveying my klutziness. “Should have turned on the light when I got up in the middle of the night.”
    She looked at me pityingly and pursed her lips, beginning to say something but thinking better of it. It was clear that she wasn’t buying my story, but she obviously hadn’t put two and two together about how I had ended up looking like this and I was glad for that. I wondered if the police had told her that