Read Online Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle by Gloria Ferris - Free Book Online

and up the steps, my hand over my mouth and nose. The vestibule of the police station was deserted and nondescript, and I let him take my arm and lead me through into a private office with his name and title stamped on the door.
    Collapsing into a straight-backed chair, I took off my helmet, shook out my hair, and unzipped my jacket. As I sucked oxygen into my lungs, I felt my stomach relax, but I could still taste and smell the decay. Just to be safe, I located the waste basket and figured I could hit it if required.
    Noting his attention on my pantsuit and silk shirt, I said, “Among my other accomplishments, I am a realtor. I just finished showing a house.”
    â€œIt’s your grave-tending profession I want to discuss.” Chief Redfern sat on the front of his desk so his legs were mere inches from my knees. An intimidating stance learned at advanced detecting courses, no doubt.
    â€œGo ahead,” I told him, wishing I had a drink of water. Saliva collected in my mouth, and I quickly swallowed.
    â€œWe got the autopsy report back. Would you like to hear what it says?” Without waiting for my answer, he picked up a file from behind him, opened it, and glanced over the words, turning a page every few seconds. Another interrogation technique — force the suspect to wait and wonder what evidence has been amassed to throw her in the big house for ten years. Oh wait, that sentence was reserved for serial killers in this country. One murder would get me about eighteen months.
    â€œAre you with me, Ms. Cornwall?” He had left his perch in front of me and was now sitting at his chair, with the desk between us. I relaxed slightly, but was still on guard.
    â€œWhat I’m going to tell you will be public knowledge by tomorrow. Mr. Barnfeather died from severe trauma to the head.”
    I looked at Chief Redfern with suspicion. “If somebody hit him over the head, don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.”
    A chilly smile flitted across his lips. “Mr. Barnfeather’s mortal wound was near the back of the head, close to the top. You’re too short to have hit him there unless you were standing on a step stool. And his chair was against the wall, facing the door, so unless you squeezed behind him, you didn’t do it that way either.”
    I shuddered. I actually did have to squeeze past Julian, but I wasn’t tightening my own noose. “Not likely. So you’re saying the person that hit him had to be tall and standing behind him?”
    â€œI’m saying nothing of the kind, Ms. Cornwall. You’re the one suggesting the victim was hit with something, by somebody.”
    â€œWhat? You said Julian died from a blow to the head.”
    â€œThe coroner is quite sure that Mr. Barnfeather fell and hit his head.”
    Was this guy playing games with me? Did he have nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon than torment innocent citizens? I got up and headed for the door. “So it wasn’t murder at all. Thanks for the entertainment. You have quite a way with a story, but if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”
    â€œSit down, Ms. Cornwall. I’m not finished.”
    I plodded back to the chair and sat. My stomach was flipping, and I couldn’t tell if the smell had permeated the building or was stuck to the mucous membranes of my nose.
    â€œMr. Barnfeather died from a fall, but not in the maintenance shed. Forensics came back negative on all surfaces in the shed. He died elsewhere and was transported to the shed afterward.”
    â€œI don’t remember seeing Julian actually doing any work in the cemetery. Maybe he tripped on his way to the washroom and fell against a headstone.”
    â€œWe’ve looked at the headstones in the immediate area, but they’re clean. But we can’t check them all. There must be thousands. In any case, we can’t be sure what he fell against. It could have been a