Read Online A Cold Christmas by Charlene Weir - Free Book Online Page A

through the stacks of folders on her desk.
    The phone rang and she picked it up.
    â€œI just thought you’d like to know the mayor’s on the way,” Hazel said.
    Great. “Do you know what he wants?”
    â€œHe didn’t say.”
    â€œI’m out talking to a witness.” Susan hung up, slurped the last of the soup, and took off.
    *   *   *
    Pauline was just rewinding the cord on the vacuum when the doorbell rang.
    â€œPolice Ch—” Susan said.
    â€œOf course you are,” Pauline said. “Come right in out of the wind.”
    She was a small plump woman in her eighties with a cloud of white hair, a kind wrinkled face, and pale blue eyes. She wore a lavender sweat suit and striped black and lime green socks. She smiled a welcome.
    Demarco probably hadn’t used his charm, Susan thought sarcastically.
    The room was exceedingly hot. A white afghan with brightly colored granny squares was spread across the sofa and an orange cat was spread across the afghan. It blinked at her. The room was made small by too much furniture. Tables and shelves were crowded with ceramic figures of Victorian girls, flowers, cats, and bunnies. Hanging by the front door was stitchwork that read:
    A blessing upon your new home,
    A blessing upon your new hearth,
    Upon your newly kindled fire.
    â€œMy grandmother made that,” Pauline said. “I hung that up when I moved in as a young bride sixty years ago. If you don’t like cats, just push him off,” she added.
    The cat tightened its upper lip to reveal long sharp fangs. Susan decided she’d just sit down right here on the other end of the sofa.
    â€œAnother tragedy at the Ellendorfer place, I see,” Pauline said. “Who died? Not Caley, or one of the children? They’re all right, aren’t they?”
    â€œThey’re fine. Why do you think someone died?”
    Pauline looked exasperated. “I may be old, young lady. And I may totter, but I still have a brain. I saw the body being put in the ambulance. They aren’t completely covered up unless they’re no longer breathing.”
    Susan smiled. “Yes, someone died.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œHis name was Tim Holiday. Did you know him?”
    Pauline thought a moment, then shook her head. “No. Who is he?”
    â€œHe came to repair the furnace.”
    â€œOh, yes, he was there many times. I was beginning to think she was sweet on him. How did he die?”
    â€œHe was shot.” Susan kept the business with the burned face and hands to herself. “When did you see him?”
    â€œBecause it’s so painful for me to get around I spend a lot of time right here in this chair.” She patted the arm of the rocker. “And I look out the window. You probably think I’m a nosy old lady.”
    Susan loved nosy old ladies. They saw things nobody else noticed and were a font of information. “Of course not,” she said.
    Pauline grinned. “Yes, you do, dear, but that’s all right, it’s true. At this stage in my life I feel it’s my right to be nosy. I saw this young man five or six times, maybe more. I didn’t count.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œWell, let me see. Two nights last week, I mean fairly late, after the lights were out for quite some time. That’s why I thought young Caley was seeing him. I said to myself, I hope that ex-husband of hers isn’t the jealous type. I know they were divorced, but it’s one thing for a man to run away from his wife and another to let some other man have her. Not that I approve of affairs, but things are different now and I don’t approve of that ex-husband of hers either. A good man stays with his wife and children and provides for them.”
    â€œWhat nights did you see Tim Holiday?”
    â€œThursday and Friday for sure.”
    â€œDid Mrs. James let him in?”
    â€œI don’t know about that. He went in and out