Read Online Chocolate-Covered Crime by Cynthia Hickey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cynthia Hickey
Ads: Link
adulterers didn’t deserve any better. Not in my book. Well, I knew what the Bible said about judging your fellow man. I said a prayer of repentance and squared my shoulders.
At the funeral home, I sat in the parking lot and stared at the heavy oak doors. I needed to remain impartial. Lewis was a suspect. Nothing more. I should view him as such and not let my mouth get the best of me. Help me, Lord. Don’t let my tongue be a torrent of destruction . With a deep breath, I cut the engine and shoved open my door.
Inside, the same made-up, heavily perfumed woman greeted me as at Mae Belle’s funeral. After I’d asked to speak with Lewis, she informed me that “Mr. Anderson” was in the back garden. I held back a shiver.
The crypts I passed on my way outside gave me the heebie-jeebies. The eyes of a stone angel seemed to follow my every move, and I gave a marble gargoyle a wide berth. Lewis sat on a wrought iron bench, hands folded, head down. Praying for forgiveness, perhaps?
“Mr. Anderson, may I speak with you?”
“Miss Meadows.” He sighed and raised his head. “I’d be honored.”
I withdrew the photos and handed them to him. “I found these in Mae Belle’s apartment.”
His breath released in a groan. “Ah, yes.”
“Would you care to explain?” I perched on the corner of the bench. “You denied knowing her earlier.”
“It went beyond knowing. I loved her.”
“You’re married to someone else.”
“In name only, Miss Meadows.” He handed back all the photos but one. The picture in his hand showed the two of them laughing, cocktail glasses in hand. Mason said Mae Belle took offense to alcohol. I really should’ve gotten to know my cousin better growing up. Oklahoma wasn’t that far away. “We took this one on our six-month anniversary. Such a fun-loving woman.”
Mae Belle? Were we talking about the same woman?
“Do you mind me asking how the two of you met?”
Lewis closed his eyes. “She browsed the aisles at Grandma’s Story Corner. Our eyes met over a table of reference books. It was love at first sight ^Rd br.”
“You are still married, Mr. Anderson. And I’d like that photo back, please. The authorities will be very interested in these.”
“Surely you don’t think I killed her, do you?” He clenched his fists, the knuckles white against the dark of his pants.
I shrugged. “Maybe to hide your affair? Wouldn’t be the first time someone reacted that way.”
He bolted to his feet, startling me. I tumbled backward off the bench, landing in a patch of ivy. Thank the Lord it wasn’t poison ivy. To the man’s credit, he held out a hand to help me. Or capture me. I wasn’t taking the chance. I declined his offer and rose to resume my seat.
“I would never hurt that sweet woman.” He sat. His shoulders drooped. “We had future plans. Plans to marry, once my children were grown, but Mae Belle grew impatient. We argued the day before she. . .passed. That’s the last time I saw her.”
“Did she threaten to tell your wife about the two of you? Is that why you argued?”
“May I please have the photos?” He held out his hand.
I shook my head and leaned forward to shove them into the back pocket of my jeans. “I’m afraid I can’t give them to you.”
He lunged at me, forcing me to slide off the bench again. “Those pictures cannot get around. It’ll ruin me. And think of the pain to my family.”
My legs wouldn’t cooperate. My feet slipped on the cobblestone walkway. I crawled away from him, putting a fountain between the two of us. So much for staying out of danger. Using a statue for balance, I got to my feet. “You should have thought of that earlier. One more step, Mr. Anderson, and I will scream.” He took the step, my scream came out as more of a croak, and I jumped back.
His countenance fell. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he buried his face in his hands. For a moment I felt compassion, then shook it off. I’d reserve judgment until he was
At the funeral home, I sat in the parking lot and stared at the heavy oak doors. I needed to remain impartial. Lewis was a suspect. Nothing more. I should view him as such and not let my mouth get the best of me. Help me, Lord. Don’t let my tongue be a torrent of destruction . With a deep breath, I cut the engine and shoved open my door.
Inside, the same made-up, heavily perfumed woman greeted me as at Mae Belle’s funeral. After I’d asked to speak with Lewis, she informed me that “Mr. Anderson” was in the back garden. I held back a shiver.
The crypts I passed on my way outside gave me the heebie-jeebies. The eyes of a stone angel seemed to follow my every move, and I gave a marble gargoyle a wide berth. Lewis sat on a wrought iron bench, hands folded, head down. Praying for forgiveness, perhaps?
“Mr. Anderson, may I speak with you?”
“Miss Meadows.” He sighed and raised his head. “I’d be honored.”
I withdrew the photos and handed them to him. “I found these in Mae Belle’s apartment.”
His breath released in a groan. “Ah, yes.”
“Would you care to explain?” I perched on the corner of the bench. “You denied knowing her earlier.”
“It went beyond knowing. I loved her.”
“You’re married to someone else.”
“In name only, Miss Meadows.” He handed back all the photos but one. The picture in his hand showed the two of them laughing, cocktail glasses in hand. Mason said Mae Belle took offense to alcohol. I really should’ve gotten to know my cousin better growing up. Oklahoma wasn’t that far away. “We took this one on our six-month anniversary. Such a fun-loving woman.”
Mae Belle? Were we talking about the same woman?
“Do you mind me asking how the two of you met?”
Lewis closed his eyes. “She browsed the aisles at Grandma’s Story Corner. Our eyes met over a table of reference books. It was love at first sight ^Rd br.”
“You are still married, Mr. Anderson. And I’d like that photo back, please. The authorities will be very interested in these.”
“Surely you don’t think I killed her, do you?” He clenched his fists, the knuckles white against the dark of his pants.
I shrugged. “Maybe to hide your affair? Wouldn’t be the first time someone reacted that way.”
He bolted to his feet, startling me. I tumbled backward off the bench, landing in a patch of ivy. Thank the Lord it wasn’t poison ivy. To the man’s credit, he held out a hand to help me. Or capture me. I wasn’t taking the chance. I declined his offer and rose to resume my seat.
“I would never hurt that sweet woman.” He sat. His shoulders drooped. “We had future plans. Plans to marry, once my children were grown, but Mae Belle grew impatient. We argued the day before she. . .passed. That’s the last time I saw her.”
“Did she threaten to tell your wife about the two of you? Is that why you argued?”
“May I please have the photos?” He held out his hand.
I shook my head and leaned forward to shove them into the back pocket of my jeans. “I’m afraid I can’t give them to you.”
He lunged at me, forcing me to slide off the bench again. “Those pictures cannot get around. It’ll ruin me. And think of the pain to my family.”
My legs wouldn’t cooperate. My feet slipped on the cobblestone walkway. I crawled away from him, putting a fountain between the two of us. So much for staying out of danger. Using a statue for balance, I got to my feet. “You should have thought of that earlier. One more step, Mr. Anderson, and I will scream.” He took the step, my scream came out as more of a croak, and I jumped back.
His countenance fell. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he buried his face in his hands. For a moment I felt compassion, then shook it off. I’d reserve judgment until he was
Similar Books
