Read Online But He Was Already Dead When I Got There by Barbara Paul - Free Book Online Page B

doesn’t look at all as if, say, an ordinary, everyday sort of burglary has taken place here, does it?”
    Simon noticed she herself avoided looking in the direction of the desk. “Darling, if you have in mind what I think you have in mind—”
    â€œSay we make this place look as if a burglar broke in and Uncle Vincent surprised him. Uncle Vincent managed to get his gun out of his desk drawer, but the burglar was too quick for him. He bashed Uncle Vincent on the head and then made his escape! How does that sound?”
    â€œDorrie, my love—are you absolutely certain you want to aid and abet a killer? Think about it.”
    Dorrie thought about it seriously for several minutes. “Yes,” she said.
    Simon’s half-smile returned, the first time since they’d found Uncle Vincent in his defunct state. “And I suppose there’s no chance of talking you out of it?”
    â€œNo chance in the world.” She jumped up from the sofa. “Come on—let’s do it.”
    â€œI will if this blasted cat lets me get up.” Godfrey permitted it. Dorrie was already busy pulling out desk drawers and emptying the contents on the floor. “Wouldn’t a burglar actually take something?” Simon asked.
    â€œOh—yes, he would, wouldn’t he? Why don’t you take that little jade horse? And that pearl inlay box on the end table. Whatever looks worth stealing.” Dorrie gritted her teeth and awkwardly removed Uncle Vincent’s expensive watch from his left wrist, needing to take off one glove to do so.
    â€œWhat about the Degas?” Simon suggested.
    Dorrie considered. “Too awkward. We have to carry all this stuff, you know.” She put her glove back on.
    â€œBillfold—I’ll bet the old boy carried his billfold with him around the house.” Simon went through the dead man’s pockets and found the billfold. “Aha!”
    â€œDon’t forget the credit cards.”
    Simon removed the cash and the credit cards and dropped the billfold in a conspicuous place on the carpet. Godfrey Daniel immediately pounced on the billfold and started knocking it around the floor with his paws. “Leave that alone, you wretched creature!” Simon hissed. “Do you want to spoil our evidence?” He toed the billfold under the desk where the cat couldn’t get at it.
    Dorrie threw a couple of the sofa cushions on the floor. “It still doesn’t look messed-up enough.” She pulled open a file drawer and started tossing papers up in the air. Godfrey loved that; he stood on his hind legs and batted at the falling pages. “Darling, shouldn’t those terrace doors look as if they’d been broken open?” Dorrie asked. “There’s a screwdriver in the backpack.”
    â€œI’ve got a better idea.” Simon stepped out onto the terrace, turned his head away, and thrust a gloved fist through the glass panel nearest the doorknob.
    The sound of breaking glass made both cat and woman start. “Oh my—that did make a bit of noise, didn’t it?” Dorrie caught sight of a black, orange, and white tail twitching nervously from beneath the sofa. “Do you suppose anyone heard?”
    â€œWe’d better leave—come on.”
    She glanced toward the mantlepiece. “What about that clock? It’s worth several thousand at least.”
    â€œLeave it—we’ve got more than we can carry now. Oh … the lights. The lights were off when we got here.”
    Dorrie frowned. “Would a burglar who’d just killed a man stop to turn off the lights?”
    â€œYou’re right. Let’s go.” Simon went out on the terrace, wondering how they were going to get all their loot over the wall. “We’ll have to toss this stuff over, I suppose, one piece at a time. Or—wait a minute.” The walled terrace encircled only three-fourths of the house, leaving