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

the basement door. She’s a nice young woman,” Pauline said, in case Susan should judge her harshly.
    â€œI agree,” Susan said.
    â€œShe gave me this outfit.” Pauline looked down at her sweatshirt. “She said it was stunning and I did not look like a silly old lady. It would be just the thing to keep me warm. She’s right about the warm part.”
    Susan smiled, understanding why Pauline liked Caley James even though Caley might be carrying on with the furnace man. “What other times did you see this man?”
    â€œSaturday afternoon, and I thought, Good, they’re no longer being sly about it. Then he came back again Saturday evening.”
    â€œWhat about yesterday?”
    Pauline hesitated for the blink of an eyelid. “Sunday afternoon is the day I play bridge, so I wasn’t watching between four and seven. Starting at four gives the others time to have Sunday dinner and get it cleared away. Of course, it doesn’t matter with me because I no longer have a family to see to. There’s just Ollie and me and he doesn’t require a full Sunday dinner. Is that when he was killed?”
    â€œDid you see him at all last night?”
    Pauline frowned. “Here, you’re not thinking she had anything to do with it, are you?”
    â€œWe need to check everything,” Susan said as though there were some tedious rule she had to follow. She gave Ollie a pat, rose to leave, and thanked Pauline, adding that if she had more questions she’d be back.
    As Susan jogged across the street to the James house, she could feel Pauline’s eyes on her back.
    Pauline turned from the window and frowned at the cat. “Oh for goodness sakes, Ollie, I’m getting so forgetful. I did see something. I was so worried about that sweet Caley I didn’t even give it a thought. Do you think I should tell that nice young policewoman?”
    Ollie didn’t have an opinion.
    Pauline shook her head. “I’m sure it was nothing, just the door being opened to let him in, and anyway it was in the afternoon.”
    Ollie vigorously washed a paw.
    â€œQuite right, it’s of no importance. I’ll see what Ida Ruth thinks.”
    *   *   *
    Zach answered the door. In his black and silver boots, he was two inches taller than Susan.
    â€œI need to see your mom,” she said.
    â€œYou were just here,” he said. “She’s in bed. She’s sick.”
    â€œI’m sorry, but it’s important.”
    â€œZach?” Caley called. “Who is it?”
    â€œPolice,” he said.
    Caley, wrapped in a fleecy robe, came up behind him. Shivering, hair tangled, eyes unfocused.
    â€œOnly a few questions,” Susan said.
    Caley nodded, told Zach to let her in, and padded in stockinged feet to the kitchen. “Coffee?” Caley asked.
    â€œNo thanks.” Susan sat down at the table.
    Caley filled a mug from the carafe and, holding it in both hands, sat at the table. She looked like she wanted to put her head down and go to sleep. She took a sip and looked at Susan, struggling to keep her eyes open. “What now?” she asked wearily, and then went into a coughing fit.
    Susan waited until it was over. “How many times was Tim Holiday here?”
    â€œI told you. Twice. And he wouldn’t have been here the second time if he’d done it right the first time.” She put her elbows on the table and propped her head in her hands.
    â€œMrs. Frankens said he was here six times or more.”
    Caley shook her head. “Twice,” she insisted. She sneezed and got up to search a shelf for tissues. When she found the box, she sat back down.
    â€œWhy would she say that if it weren’t true?”
    Caley blew her nose. “Mistaken. She’s old. Her eyes aren’t too good.”
    â€œWere you having an affair with Tim Holiday?”
    Caley threw the soggy tissue toward the trash basket, missed,