Read Online Close to the Bone by William G. Tapply - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William G. Tapply
Ads: Link
tie onto the end of my leader, casting it so that it drifts directly over a feeding trout, and doing it so cleverly that the trout confuses that fur-and-feather concoction with a real mayfly and pokes his nose out of the water to eat it—that is the appeal of trout fishing in June.
I figured I wouldn’t do any fishing on this particular Saturday in June, keeping my nonfishing record for the season intact. Paul Cizek had gone overboard during the storm. Olivia would need me.
I was smoking a cigarette, working on my second mug of coffee, and watching the gulls cruise over the harbor when Alex kissed the back of my neck.
“Good morning, sweetie,” she said.
I turned my head so she could kiss my cheek. Then I kissed hers. “Hi,” I said. “Coffee’s all brewed.”
She showed me the mug she was holding. “Are you okay?”
“I’m pretty worried about Paul.”
“Tell me about it. I was kind of out of it when the phone rang.”
She sat in the aluminum chair beside me and held onto my hand while I talked. When I told her that Paul and Olivia had separated, she squeezed my hand a little harder.
“You think he went overboard during the storm,” she said when I finished.
“I guess there are a lot of explanations for finding his boat out there without him on it,” I said. “But that’s the one that makes the most sense.”
“If he went overboard—”
“He probably drowned. He never wore a life jacket. I’m trying not to create scenarios. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m just trying to wait and see what happens.”
“His wife will call you again?”
“I expect so. If she doesn’t, I’ll call her.”
“You were hoping to go fishing,” she said.
“Yes. I was going to call Charlie and see if he wanted to go. If he didn’t, I’d probably have gone alone. I haven’t been all year. I’ve pretty much lost my heart for it now.”
She lifted her mug, drained it, then stood up. “I’ve got to get to the office,” she said. “Will you be okay?”
“Sure. It’s Olivia I’m worried about.”
Olivia called a little after eight. “They want to talk to me,” she said.
“Who?”
“The Newburyport police.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can get there.”
“If you want,” I said, “I can be in Newburyport in an hour.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” she said softly. “I could really use your support.” She was silent for a moment, then she said, “Brady?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think they want?”
“I guess they’re just trying to figure out what might’ve happened.”
“If they found him—his… his body—they would’ve told me, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes, I think they would.”
“So…”
“Try not to jump to conclusions, Olivia. Let’s take it a step at a time. How well do you know Newburyport?”
“I’ve been there. Not well, I guess.”
“When you turn off the highway onto Route 113 you’ll see a Friendly’s ice cream place on your left. I’ll meet you there. We’ll have a cup of coffee, then we can go talk to the police together. Okay?”
“Yes. Okay.”
I hung up the phone and headed for the shower. The police wanted to question Olivia Cizek because they always want to question the spouse when someone dies mysteriously or violently.
The police were already assuming Paul Cizek had died.
Olivia may not have realized it, but she needed a lawyer.
I found her sitting at a booth staring into a cup of coffee. It didn’t look as if she’d slept much.
I slid in across from her. “Good to see you again, Olivia.”
She looked up and smiled quickly. “Thank you for coming,” she said. She had pale gray eyes, almost silver, and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and when she smiled the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and her mouth crinkled.
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “It’s a tough time for you. I’m your lawyer. And your friend.”
“I’m a lawyer, too, you know.”
I nodded.
“They
I figured I wouldn’t do any fishing on this particular Saturday in June, keeping my nonfishing record for the season intact. Paul Cizek had gone overboard during the storm. Olivia would need me.
I was smoking a cigarette, working on my second mug of coffee, and watching the gulls cruise over the harbor when Alex kissed the back of my neck.
“Good morning, sweetie,” she said.
I turned my head so she could kiss my cheek. Then I kissed hers. “Hi,” I said. “Coffee’s all brewed.”
She showed me the mug she was holding. “Are you okay?”
“I’m pretty worried about Paul.”
“Tell me about it. I was kind of out of it when the phone rang.”
She sat in the aluminum chair beside me and held onto my hand while I talked. When I told her that Paul and Olivia had separated, she squeezed my hand a little harder.
“You think he went overboard during the storm,” she said when I finished.
“I guess there are a lot of explanations for finding his boat out there without him on it,” I said. “But that’s the one that makes the most sense.”
“If he went overboard—”
“He probably drowned. He never wore a life jacket. I’m trying not to create scenarios. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m just trying to wait and see what happens.”
“His wife will call you again?”
“I expect so. If she doesn’t, I’ll call her.”
“You were hoping to go fishing,” she said.
“Yes. I was going to call Charlie and see if he wanted to go. If he didn’t, I’d probably have gone alone. I haven’t been all year. I’ve pretty much lost my heart for it now.”
She lifted her mug, drained it, then stood up. “I’ve got to get to the office,” she said. “Will you be okay?”
“Sure. It’s Olivia I’m worried about.”
Olivia called a little after eight. “They want to talk to me,” she said.
“Who?”
“The Newburyport police.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can get there.”
“If you want,” I said, “I can be in Newburyport in an hour.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” she said softly. “I could really use your support.” She was silent for a moment, then she said, “Brady?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think they want?”
“I guess they’re just trying to figure out what might’ve happened.”
“If they found him—his… his body—they would’ve told me, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes, I think they would.”
“So…”
“Try not to jump to conclusions, Olivia. Let’s take it a step at a time. How well do you know Newburyport?”
“I’ve been there. Not well, I guess.”
“When you turn off the highway onto Route 113 you’ll see a Friendly’s ice cream place on your left. I’ll meet you there. We’ll have a cup of coffee, then we can go talk to the police together. Okay?”
“Yes. Okay.”
I hung up the phone and headed for the shower. The police wanted to question Olivia Cizek because they always want to question the spouse when someone dies mysteriously or violently.
The police were already assuming Paul Cizek had died.
Olivia may not have realized it, but she needed a lawyer.
I found her sitting at a booth staring into a cup of coffee. It didn’t look as if she’d slept much.
I slid in across from her. “Good to see you again, Olivia.”
She looked up and smiled quickly. “Thank you for coming,” she said. She had pale gray eyes, almost silver, and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and when she smiled the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and her mouth crinkled.
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “It’s a tough time for you. I’m your lawyer. And your friend.”
“I’m a lawyer, too, you know.”
I nodded.
“They
Similar Books
