Riders on the Storm
- Автор: Горман Эд
- Серия: Sam McCain #10
- Год: 2014
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus
- ISBN: 978-1-60598-625-8
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «Riders on the Storm». Краткое содержание книги:
I was surprised that there were only two guys putting the moves on her. I stood to her left so eventually she’d have to see me. When she did, she said, “Who let you in, McCain?”
Her would-be suitors — all unbuttoned shirts and bell-bottomed plaid trousers — glared at me. The yellow-haired one said — actually said — “You want him gone, babe?”
Even as a little girl her smile had been wan, even sad.
“No, I’m going to give him a few minutes and if he tries to stay longer then I’ll want him gone.”
“You got it, babe,” said the dark-haired one.
They gave me their best TV bad-guy stares, then moved down the bar.
“Hey, babe,” I said.
“Go fuck yourself, McCain.”
“One of them could be husband number three if I’m not mistaken?”
She waved her empty glass at the bartender. “I’m worried about Will. I still care about him.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’m wondering if you care about him so much that you send him threatening letters in the mail.”
“Does that sound like something I’d do?”
With a fresh drink in her hand, she said, “He didn’t kill Steve Donovan.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I did. I asked you if that sounded like me.”
For all her audacious sexuality the one man she’d loved had deserted and humiliated her. She and Will had gone together through most of college but the summer he met Karen he dropped her with no warning. Two marriages and numerous men later, she’d never recovered.
“I think you were sleeping with him again.”
“I don’t do married men.”
“And you don’t send threatening letters in the mail.”
Their official relationship had ended many years ago. Will told me over the years that she’d sent birthday cards and Christmas cards to him at his veterinary clinic. Her interest in him had never waned. What if they’d had an affair and then he’d ended it again? What if she saw an opportunity to punish him by killing Donovan and letting Will be blamed?
“Somebody made it look as if Will killed Donovan. You knew Donovan, didn’t you?”
“Now and then.” Coy. I hate coy.
“I thought you didn’t do married men.”
“There are exceptions to every rule.” Still coy but then angry. “I’m sick of talking about this. I don’t appreciate you hounding me when I’m trying to relax. You always were a pain in the ass, McCain.”
“You going to sic your boyfriends on me?”
“I will unless you walk out of here right now.”
“I’m pretty sure you had an affair with him and I’m pretty sure you mailed him those things.”
“You sound desperate, McCain. Now leave me alone.”
A single glance from her started the boyfriends walking toward me. Fists at their sides.
“This isn’t over, Cathy. Believe me.”
Then I made myself gone.
12
“Do you think count Chocula is real?” Kate asked me with professorial seriousness while she was eating some. I’d dropped by for breakfast.
If there was an Olympic event for eye-rolling, Nicole would win outright.
“Well, some say he’s real and some say he’s not,” I said.
“Now, there’s a politician,” Mary laughed.
“Of course he’s not real.” Nicole would also win the Gold for scoffing.
“But we saw him in that movie.”
“That was an actor playing him, sweetie.”
She eyed her sister with grumpy spite. “Well, I can believe in him if I want.”
As breakfast went on I had the same conflicted feelings I’d had the night before. Family life was enjoyable and comforting; family life was confining. Mary came as part of a package deal.
“Can we go to the parade now, Mommy?” Kate said.
“It’ll be a little while, honey.”
“I want to be in the band when I’m old enough,” Nicole said. “The uniforms are cool.”
“Her music teacher said that she’s really got talent,” Mary said. “Right now she plays the piano. This coming school year she’ll be part of a recital.”
“I want to play in a band and be a rock star.”
“Somehow, Kate, that doesn’t surprise me.”
She blessed me with one of her baby smiles.
I was just thinking about repairing to the john — the house was nice enough to have three, believe it or not; main floor, second floor, and basement (pot and shower), perfect for a new man of the house — when the phone rang.
There was a yellow extension phone on the kitchen wall. The table where we ate put me closest to it so I jumped up and got it.
“We’re trying to reach Mr. Sam McCain.” A serious-sounding woman.
“This is he.”
“This is St. Mark’s hospital. A man named Gordon Niven listed you as next of kin.”
“He did?” The shock in my voice alerted Mary. She’d been interested in somebody calling me here but now she was even more interested because of my tone. “I’m not really his kin.”
“Well, he listed you, Mr. McCain. You do know him, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I guess. Slightly, I mean.”
“I have to admit this is strange. We were going to call his residence in Des Moines — that’s where his driver’s license says he lives — but in his wallet he put a card that reads: In case of emergency call Sam McCain. We tried your home phone and there was no answer. A woman here knows Mary and said to try you at her number.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He was severely beaten sometime last night. He was found this morning in a parking lot adjacent to the Royale Hotel, which is where he was registered. We checked. Whoever beat him jammed him behind a dumpster. He has a concussion, two broken ribs, and a broken jaw. He can’t talk because his jaw is wired shut. Right now he’s sleeping. Do you know anything about the incident?”
“Not right now. You’re aware that he’s a private investigator? He’s in town because of a case. I’d like to see him as soon as I can.”
“My guess is that it will be much later in the day and maybe not even then. You’ll just have to call and check on his condition. He’s understandably exhausted and very weak.”
“Yes, of course. Well, I’ll check later today. Thanks for calling.”
“Thank you for your help, Mr. McCain.”
The girls had skittered off. Mary had watched and listened to me with the fervor she brought to her soap operas. Even in high school she was known as the soap queen.
“That sounded ominous,” she said as I sat down.
“It is.” I explained to her who Niven was. “I suppose Foster has already tried to interview him. I hope he didn’t have any luck. Niven might not be able to talk but maybe he could write things down.”
“I thought you liked Foster.”
“Pretty much I do. But I’m not sure he’ll be making the connections I am. I saw a photo of Valerie Donovan in Niven’s back seat with some file folders. I’m assuming he’s been hired to investigate her.”
“Investigate her for what?”
“I’m not sure yet. But Foster needs proof that Will didn’t kill her husband. So I have to come up with some believable alternative to what Foster believes happened. I’d planned on visiting Niven’s hotel room when he was out.”
“That has to be illegal.”
“It is. But even if he caught me he wouldn’t call Foster because that would get Foster interested in him. And Niven likes glory. He wouldn’t want to share it with a cop.”
“Do you like Niven?”