Read Online Bartholomew 02 - How to Marry a Ghost by Hope McIntyre - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hope McIntyre
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she think I encountered bodies blasted by shotguns on a regular basis?
“Well, the fact that he’d been drifting in the bay for twenty-four hours probably meant most of his blood had drained out of him but what I really found horrific was that they told me the wound was plugged before he was dressed in the wedding dress.”
“What do you mean, ‘plugged’?”
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Hope McIntyre
“I don’t know—filled in with cotton, bandages, some kind of dressing, whatever you do to stop blood flowing from a wound.”
“Do they have any idea who killed him?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s a detective on the case and he’s a pretty mean bastard by the looks of things, comes to us from the city and he was originally a patrolman in the South Bronx. He’s new out here so he’s going to be working this case pretty hard to prove himself.You’re going to come across him if you’re working with Kip, and good luck. He got nowhere with me but then I’m pretty tough myself. Anyway, I told him who I think he should regard as his prime suspect.”
“You did? Who?”
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” she said mysteriously. “So you’ve met Kip?”
Her abrupt switch threw me for a second and thinking of Shotgun as Kip was not going to be easy.
“Not yet,” I said.
“You’ll like working with him. He’s a very nice man, decent, kind. A wonderful man.” She was on the verge of tears again.
Oh my God, I thought, she still loves him .
“How long since you and he—” I faltered, not quite sure this was an area I ought to be getting into.
“Split up? I left him fourteen years ago.”
“You left him?”
“Oh yes. You haven’t done your homework, have you? Your predecessor was pretty thorough by the sounds of things.”
“You met her?”
Angie shook her head. “No, but a few years ago she tried to get Kip to do a book and she was pretty persistent then, sent me a ton of e-mails to which I never replied. Apparently he wasn’t interested and she thought she could get me to make him change his mind. But she didn’t get anywhere with me either. And now I
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hear she’s been sniffing round here for a few weeks, talking to people, trying to get them to tell her stuff about Kip.”
“Did she speak to your son?”
“I’m guessing she did.”
“Did you ask him about her? I mean, before he—”
Angela Marriott turned away from me so I couldn’t see her face.
“No,” she said, “I never asked him.You see, my son and I didn’t speak for a very long time. When Kip and I split up, he stayed with his father. He was—” Her voice broke. “He was only ten.”
I laid Eliza in her baby carriage and moved toward Angela, thinking she was on the point of collapse, but her back remained rigid and she didn’t buckle.
When she turned around she had regained her composure to the extent that she was able to smile at me. She had replaced her dark glasses and they added to the overall glamorous image she presented. To me, she didn’t look like the wife of a rock star—
more like a corporate businesswoman, authoritative, decisive, very much a leader. I wondered what her life had been like since the breakup of her marriage.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I got a little out of control there.”
Oh God! Here was someone who really resented loss of control. She hadn’t seen her son in fourteen years and then he winds up murdered. Nobody would blame her if she went into a month-long total freak-out, whereas here she was apologizing for a five-second tremor in her voice.
She was a tough customer all right but then I thought of how tender she had been when changing Eliza’s diaper. Maybe that’s what being around a baby did to people, because in spite of her tattoo, her wood-chopping, her lawn-mowing, and her tough-guy attitude, Franny too had demonstrated a soft and utterly feminine side to her nature with Eliza in her arms.
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Hope McIntyre
“I have to
“Well, the fact that he’d been drifting in the bay for twenty-four hours probably meant most of his blood had drained out of him but what I really found horrific was that they told me the wound was plugged before he was dressed in the wedding dress.”
“What do you mean, ‘plugged’?”
5 2 P
Hope McIntyre
“I don’t know—filled in with cotton, bandages, some kind of dressing, whatever you do to stop blood flowing from a wound.”
“Do they have any idea who killed him?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s a detective on the case and he’s a pretty mean bastard by the looks of things, comes to us from the city and he was originally a patrolman in the South Bronx. He’s new out here so he’s going to be working this case pretty hard to prove himself.You’re going to come across him if you’re working with Kip, and good luck. He got nowhere with me but then I’m pretty tough myself. Anyway, I told him who I think he should regard as his prime suspect.”
“You did? Who?”
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” she said mysteriously. “So you’ve met Kip?”
Her abrupt switch threw me for a second and thinking of Shotgun as Kip was not going to be easy.
“Not yet,” I said.
“You’ll like working with him. He’s a very nice man, decent, kind. A wonderful man.” She was on the verge of tears again.
Oh my God, I thought, she still loves him .
“How long since you and he—” I faltered, not quite sure this was an area I ought to be getting into.
“Split up? I left him fourteen years ago.”
“You left him?”
“Oh yes. You haven’t done your homework, have you? Your predecessor was pretty thorough by the sounds of things.”
“You met her?”
Angie shook her head. “No, but a few years ago she tried to get Kip to do a book and she was pretty persistent then, sent me a ton of e-mails to which I never replied. Apparently he wasn’t interested and she thought she could get me to make him change his mind. But she didn’t get anywhere with me either. And now I
How to Marry a Ghost
P
5 3
hear she’s been sniffing round here for a few weeks, talking to people, trying to get them to tell her stuff about Kip.”
“Did she speak to your son?”
“I’m guessing she did.”
“Did you ask him about her? I mean, before he—”
Angela Marriott turned away from me so I couldn’t see her face.
“No,” she said, “I never asked him.You see, my son and I didn’t speak for a very long time. When Kip and I split up, he stayed with his father. He was—” Her voice broke. “He was only ten.”
I laid Eliza in her baby carriage and moved toward Angela, thinking she was on the point of collapse, but her back remained rigid and she didn’t buckle.
When she turned around she had regained her composure to the extent that she was able to smile at me. She had replaced her dark glasses and they added to the overall glamorous image she presented. To me, she didn’t look like the wife of a rock star—
more like a corporate businesswoman, authoritative, decisive, very much a leader. I wondered what her life had been like since the breakup of her marriage.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I got a little out of control there.”
Oh God! Here was someone who really resented loss of control. She hadn’t seen her son in fourteen years and then he winds up murdered. Nobody would blame her if she went into a month-long total freak-out, whereas here she was apologizing for a five-second tremor in her voice.
She was a tough customer all right but then I thought of how tender she had been when changing Eliza’s diaper. Maybe that’s what being around a baby did to people, because in spite of her tattoo, her wood-chopping, her lawn-mowing, and her tough-guy attitude, Franny too had demonstrated a soft and utterly feminine side to her nature with Eliza in her arms.
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Hope McIntyre
“I have to
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