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

Connecticut?”
    â€œNo! Hasn’t happened for over a year. And none if meant anything, not to us, or to the women. Hell they were just…”
    â€œProstitutes.”
    â€œI guess you’d have to say that. We showed our gratitude with gifts or cash.”
    Beam, during his years in the NYPD, had become something of a human polygraph. He felt sure Floyd was telling the truth. He also was sure the man had loved and trusted his wife and was genuinely grief stricken. Add what would also doubtless turn out to be a tight alibi, and Floyd was pretty much out of the picture as a suspect.
    â€œIt appears your wife was dressing up when she was killed, putting on her lipstick, in fact.”
    â€œShe had a responsible job. She couldn’t go to work like some of these women do these days, no makeup, stringy hair. She was in sales, for Chrissakes!”
    â€œJust one more question, Mr. Baker. Did your wife ever serve on a jury in New York?”
    Floyd leaned far back as if to stare at the ceiling, but his eyes were closed.
    â€œShe sure did.”
    Â 
    â€œThe Adele Janson case,” Beam told Nell and Looper, when they were seated in his Lincoln parked at the curb in front of a fire hydrant. He had his NYPD placard on the dash so no one would bother the car.
    â€œAbout four years ago?” Nell said. “The woman who poisoned her husband with antifreeze?”
    â€œRight,” Beam said. “She got off because her expert witness convinced the jury there was a natural disease that showed the same symptoms as ethylene glycol poisoning.”
    â€œI remember now. The defendant had motive and opportunity, not to mention what was left in a gallon jug of antifreeze, but her lawyer maintained hubby just sickened and died.”
    â€œAnd two years later she was convicted of poisoning her daughter,” Looper said. “After the trial, she confessed to both murders.”
    Beam lowered the power window on his side to cool down the big black car; the gleaming dark finish was starting to soak up more sun than it reflected. “Beverly Baker was foreperson on the first jury, the one that turned Janson loose after she’d done her husband.”
    â€œWhich made the late Beverly a prime target for our guy,” Nell said. “This one was his work without a doubt.”
    â€œSo what have we got besides mutual certainty?” Beam said. “I mean, beyond the red letter J ?”
    Nell and Looper tried. They’d gotten nothing of significance from the Bakers’ neighbors, or from the doorman. It wasn’t the kind of building where security was tight, so it was no shock that a killer might have come and gone without being noticed. No one heard anything remotely like a gunshot, so a silencer was probably used to shoot Beverly Baker. No one had a word other than kind to say about the deceased: She was outgoing and friendly and a generous tipper. She gave neighbors discounts on lamps. The way she obviously enjoyed life, it was a shame—it was a crime—she was dead. It seemed the only notable thing about her was that she’d been foreperson on the Janson murder trial jury, though it had been long enough ago that none of the neighbors had mentioned it.
    â€œWhat did they say about her husband?” Beam asked.
    â€œFloyd?” Nell said. “He’s just a guy. Got in an argument with the doorman about a month ago, when one of his golf clubs was missing after he’d left his bag in the lobby. But he found the club later and apologized. Other’n that, no problems with anybody in the building. But it was Bev, as they called her, who everyone really liked.”
    â€œAnd who somebody didn’t,” Beam said.
    â€œWe got the thirty-two caliber slug to help tie it in with the other murders,” Looper said.
    â€œIf it is a thirty-two,” Nell said.
    â€œAnd no shell casing,” Looper pointed out. “This shooter walked away from a