Read Online Chill of Night by John Lutz - Free Book Online Page A

talk,” Beam said to the slumping new widower who looked about to sob, “but the sooner we know some things, the better.”
    â€œI want the bastard who shot her caught,” Floyd said. “I want you to give him to me.”
    â€œIf only the law allowed.”
    Floyd gave Beam a slightly surprised look.
    â€œAny idea who the bastard might be?” Beam asked.
    â€œNone whatsoever. We had the perfect marriage. I know that sounds corny, but you can ask anybody who knows—knew—either one of us. Everybody liked Bev. She was outgoing.”
    â€œI don’t mean to be indelicate,” Beam said, “but keep in mind these questions are standard ones that have to be asked. And answered. Is it possible your wife was seeing someone else?”
    Floyd raised his head and looked over at Beam with a combination of grief and rage. “There was none of that shit in our marriage. We were happy together.”
    â€œDid you spend a lot of time together?”
    â€œNot as much as we would’ve liked, and that was my fault. Bev was a kind of golf widow. I mean, I retired and got interested in the game. Golf’s like a drug to some people. I could cut my wrists for it now, but I spent too much time on golf courses and not enough with my wife.”
    â€œAnd you were golfing today?”
    â€œYesterday and today. Spent the night in Connecticut, in a motel near the Rolling Acres course. It’s a terrific course, got these big lakes and tricky greens. You gotta watch for the water and sand on damn near every hole. Three of my golfing buddies were with me.”
    â€œAll the time?”
    â€œI don’t need a damned alibi!”
    â€œI’m sorry, but you do.”
    â€œThen I have one—them. We were on the course together, had our meals together.”
    â€œSeparate motel rooms?”
    â€œNo. There were only three rooms available. I doubled up with Alan Jones. Glad I did now.”
    â€œThis Jones would know if you slipped out at night?”
    â€œAnd what? Drove or took a train into the city, killed my wife, then returned to bed at the Drowsy Ace motel?”
    â€œDoesn’t sound likely,” Beam admitted with a smile.
    â€œWay I snore, anyway, ask Alan Jones and he’ll tell you I was there all night. Poor bastard probably didn’t get a straight hour’s sleep. Upset his game, too.”
    â€œAt this point you’re not really a suspect,” Beam assured Floyd.
    â€œBullshit. Husband’s always a suspect. Should be.”
    â€œWould be,” Beam said honestly. “But I’m sure your alibi will check out. And lucky for you, the times don’t work out. Of course, you could always have hired someone to kill your wife.” No smile with the words.
    Floyd practically levitated with indignation, then he looked almost amused, so improbable was the notion. “Not my style, or my desire.”
    Beam believed him.
    â€œI wouldn’t even know how to get in touch with a hit man.”
    â€œOr hit woman. I asked about whether your wife might be having an extramarital affair. What about you, Mr. Baker?”
    Floyd glared at him with a kind of hopeless rage. Beam, so nice for a while, had turned on him. “You’re a cop I could learn to dislike.”
    â€œThat’d be okay, if it would help me find your wife’s killer.”
    Floyd’s features danced with his inner conflict.
    Bull’s eye, Beam thought. “Time for the curtain to drop and all secrets to be revealed,” he told Floyd.
    â€œPoetic.”
    â€œBecause it rings true. This is a homicide investigation, Mr. Baker. It’s all going to be known in the end. That’s my solemn pledge to you.”
    â€œPledge?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    Floyd let out a long breath. “A couple of times when we were on golf outings, there were some women. Two of them. We paid for it.”
    â€œHappen this time in