Read Online A Cold Day in Paradise by Steve Hamilton - Free Book Online Page A

“You must be Mr. McKnight,” she said.
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
    I knew she was well into her sixties, but there was a clarity in her eyes and a surprising strength to her as she shook my hand. Although she had her hair pinned up, I could see that she had less gray hair than I did. “Please come in,” she said. “Can I offer you some coffee? I just made some.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I’d love some.”
    She led me into the main living room. The ceiling was a good twenty feet high, and dominated by the massive round beams that were left unfinished. The windows looked out over Lake Superior in all its glory. “Have you been to this house before?” she asked. “It’s rather charming, isn’t it?”
    It was charming, all right. If I saved every penny I ever earned and did most of the work myself for about ten years, I’d have a cabin about a third as charming as this place. “I’ve been here once or twice,” I said.
    “Make yourself at home. I’ll get you a cup.”
    I sat down on one of the three couches. When she left, the room was silent except for the ticking of a clock and the faint sound of the wind off the lake.
    “Here we are,” she said as she rejoined me. I took my cup from the tray and dropped in one sugar with the little silver tongs.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” I said.
    “Please call me Theodora,” she said. “Or Teddy. My friends all call me Teddy.”
    “How about Mrs. Fulton?”
    “As you wish.” She drew out a pair of glasses and put them on. I couldn’t help noticing that they looked exactly like the pair of reading glasses that Chief Maven had put on in his office. “You do cut an imposing figure, don’t you, Mr. McKnight. But you have a kind face.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Edwin speaks very highly of you. He tells me that you have a bullet next to your heart.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I do.” I wondered if there was anyone left in the state of Michigan who didn’t know this by now.
    “Did you know that Andrew Jackson had a bullet next to his heart for the entire time he was president?”
    “No, I didn’t know that.”
    “He was in a duel. The other man shot him in the chest, but Jackson didn’t go down. He had his one shot left, so he calmly took aim and shot the other man dead. What would you have done, Mr. McKnight?”
    “You mean if I was in a duel?”
    “Yes, if you were in a duel and the other man shot you first but you were still standing.”
    “I guess I’d have to shoot him. I imagine I’d have a good reason to. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in a duel in the first place.”
    “I suppose so,” she said. “Anyway, they were never able to take the bullet out of Jackson’s chest. He just had to live with it for the rest of his life. Apparently, it gave him a lot of trouble. Does your bullet trouble you?”
    “No, not really,” I said.
    “That’s good to hear.”
    “Mrs. Fulton,” I said, “how can I help you?”
    She looked down at her coffee. “I’m sorry. I seem to bedoing my best to avoid that topic. I take it that Mr. Uttley told you of my conversation with him?”
    “He didn’t go into much detail.”
    She nodded. “Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, I am very concerned about my son Edwin. His father passed on many years ago, and I think that’s been very hard on him. He hasn’t had anyone to look up to. That’s why I’m so glad that you’re his friend, Mr. McKnight.”
    “Oh, I don’t know, Mrs. Fulton. I mean, I haven’t spent that much time with him lately.” His wife, that was a different story.
    “Yes, but even so, I think you’re the best friend he has right now.”
    I didn’t know what to say. Some best friend I was.
    “Mr. McKnight,” she said, “I’m not naive about my son’s … problems. I know that he has a particular attraction to gambling. Why else would he live way up here all year long? At first, I thought he was just trying to get away from me. I suppose that’s a typical mother’s