This Little Piggy Went to Murder by Ellen Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

getting stale. Each new group of students was beginning to feel like just one more tired horror. Part of my problem stems from the fact that I’m not much of a fan of youth — an unfortunate malady for a teacher. I find that the young romanticize everything. It’s a posture I’ve grown to abominate. I think, as a teacher, I’m pretty much a failure. Students today want a mirror. All I could offer was a window.”
     
    The brass knocker on the front door sounded, echoing through, the chilly stone interior like a shot.
     
    “I’ll get it,” he said, rising lethargically. He crossed into the foyer and opened the front door.
     
    “Mr. Jorensen?”
     
    “Yes?” Luther blinked at the strange man standing before him.
     
    “I’m Detective John Wardlaw with the Duluth Police Department. May I come in?”
     
    “I wondered when the police would arrive.” He held the door open for him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have someone call my wife.” He disappeared into the dining room and reappeared a moment later. “She’ll be down in a minute. Please. Why don’t you have a seat in here?” He led the way into the living room.
     
    “John Wardlaw,” said the detective, introducing himself to Sophie.
     
    “This is Sophie Greenway,” said Luther. “She and her husband are visiting from Minneapolis. Old friends.”
     
    Wardlaw nodded pleasantly.
     
    Sophie offered him the plate of pastries and waited while he selected a piece of pear bread. Where were they finding policemen these days? This man looked like he should be reading nursery rhymes to his grandchildren. Or puttering in the garden. She knew the police would no doubt be investigating Herman Grendel’s death; it simply hadn’t occurred to her they would show up quite so quickly. She wondered if Bram would want to be alerted to their presence, but decided to let him keep working. He’d been up since the crack of dawn. She could fill him in on everything later. As she chewed on her own slice of fruit bread, she wondered about the matter of the note she’d found on their car. Should she say something to the police? This would be the perfect opportunity. Her gut reaction told her to keep it to herself — at least for now.
     
    Wardlaw bit into the bread, smiling amiably. “Very good.” He nodded. “Homemade. I can always tell.”
     
    Amanda appeared in the archway looking composed but puffy, as if through sheer strength of will she had stopped crying. As she entered the room, she dabbed lightly at her nose with a tissue. Unsteadily, she perched on the edge of a wing chair next to Luther.
     
    Sophie’s heart went out to her old friend. Yet, wasn’t it just like Amanda that even in this damaged state, her fragile beauty seemed completely untouched. For a fleeting second, Sophie felt the same jealousy she had so often felt in the presence of Amanda and Jack Grendel. Even as children, their handsomeness had been completely effortless. Painfully, she recalled her own childhood image. A frecklefaced, insecure little tomboy, with hopelessly unruly hair and overly large, waiflike eyes. Only in the last few years had she ceased looking like an orphan from a Victorian novel.
     
    “This is Detective Wardlaw,” said Luther, gently placing his hand on Amanda’s shoulder.
     
    Instantly, Amanda started to shred the tissue in her lap.
     
    “I don’t know what I can say to help you. Jack seems to think you feel one of us —” She bit her lower lip and looked down.
     
    Wardlaw gave her a moment to compose herself. He too seemed touched by her presence. “Please understand, Mrs. Jorensen, we have to start somewhere. Families are often involved in matters like this. Or sometimes they know something they don’t realize is important.”
     
    She shook her head. “No one in my family had anything to do with my father’s death. I can’t imagine who might want to hurt him.”
     
    Wardlaw glanced at Luther. “Perhaps we should begin with you, Mr.