White Elephant Dead by Carolyn G. Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

caring about food. “Food doesn’t matter.” She ignored Max’s shocked silence. Anyone would think she was as obsessed by food as Selma Eichler’s happily pudgy detective Desiree Shapiro! Did Max think she was as desperate for mouthwatering sustenance as Nero Wolfe during the war years (“Help Wanted, Male” in the collection of novelettes, Trouble in Triplicate ) when he might have traded in Archie for a succulent slice of prime rib? “We can’t waste time thinking about food,” she said bravely, ignoring the sudden lurch of her stomach. “What’s happening with the investigation?”
    Now the silence had a markedly different quality, that of a man trying to find words.
    “Max?”
    “Nothing.” Only one word, but it bristled with bemusement, irritation and disgust. “Our I’m-in-charge-here new police chief says the case is closed, all that remains is to arrest one Henny Brawley when she regains consciousness. Garrett announced it’s a clear case of women squabbling over charitable works. He was in an expansive mood after the coroner removed the body. He stood by the open door to the van while Vince Ellis—”
    Annie wasn’t surprised that Vince was on the scene. As the owner of the Island Gazette , he often covered big stories himself.
    “—shot a dozen photos and interviewed him. When Vince asked what the motive might be for Henny to murder Kathryn Girard, Garrett tossed off a half dozen, ranging from jealousy to a club power struggle. In one superb flight of fancy, he suggested that Henny coshed Kathryn just before you and I turned onto Marsh Tacky Road, that the lights of our cars scared her and she ran out into the forest to hide and that’s how she fell down and banged her head.”
    Annie forgot her hunger pangs. Now she knew how Bulldog Drummond felt when facing an utter cad, ready toscale cliffs, ford rivers and generally raise a little hell with the forces of evil. “That’s ridiculous. How does the great detective explain Kathryn’s body in the back of the van? If Henny followed Kathryn there to attack her, why wouldn’t the body be found in the front seat or on the road beside the van?”
    “This guy is unsquashable, Annie. To hear him tell it, poor Kathryn sought refuge in the back of the van against a weapon-wielding Henny, which would argue the intelligence level of a rabbit, and Henny battered her to death and was busy covering her with a blanket when we turned onto the road.”
    “Where’s the weapon?” Annie pictured the front seat of Henny’s old Dodge, the cell phone and the bag of books.
    “Another point against Henny.” Max sounded weary. “The fact that the weapon wasn’t in the van proves that she ran off into the darkness clutching it.”
    “But nobody found—”
    “Actually, somebody did. One of the bird-watchers spotted a croquet mallet just off the road in the direction Henny ran. Garrett had Pirelli shoot lots of pictures, then they took it into evidence.”
    A croquet mallet. For a moment, Annie wondered if she had wandered into a Constance and Gwenyth Little mystery of the absurd.
    Max said grimly, “We’d better damn well hope Henny’s fingerprints aren’t on it. Of course, it won’t help if they aren’t. Garrett’ll just say she had on gloves or wiped it off or something. His mind is closed tighter than a clam.”
    “Is he sending someone over here to guard her, make sure she doesn’t escape?” That was infuriating, but a guard would be a guard. Annie didn’t care who or why, so long as someone was on duty.
    “Not until she regains consciousness. He’s asked the hospital to notify him as soon as she does.”
    Annie rubbed her temple. She wasn’t sure why it throbbed, whether from anger, hunger or general frustration.Since she couldn’t banish Garrett to a remote cabin outside Maggody, Arkansas, with Roz Buchonon as a housemate, maybe she’d better find a vending machine. She needed to think.
    And dammit, where was Emma Clyde?
    A pink