Read Online Death Stalks Door County by Patricia Skalka - Free Book Online Page B

one side, Alice’s posse of girlfriends dabbed mascara-stained tissues at their tears, unaware that the outfits they wore, indeed their very best, were inappropriate funeral attire.
    Eloise had come, too, in open defiance of her husband’s wishes. Wrapped in a plain brown wool coat and with a beige scarf covering her hair, she’d braved Beck’s wrath as well as the stiff northeast wind that lambasted the peninsula and piled tall gray clouds up against the horizon. Seated quietly to one side, she witnessed the suffering of this family of strangers, allowed their pain to supplement her own. Barry remained at home, forbidden by his father to attend the funeral. Beck had allowed his son to talk a second time with Halverson about the murder, again with the family lawyer present, and had kept the boy’s name out of the paper.
    Cubiak slouched in the rear of the bleak chapel. That morning Johnson had woken sick with flu, and the junior assistant had been delegated to attend the service. He agreed to go only as a show of respect because Alice had made her transition—another of the minister’s euphemisms—in the park.
    It was worse than Cubiak had expected. Alice’s casket was white, like Alexis’s. Unsettled by the sight of the coffin, he bore a look of such grim intensity that no one dared approach him. Afterward, as the other well-wishers followed the procession through the front door, Cubiak ducked out a side entrance.
    H e rushed full throttle toward the fresh liquor bottle in the back of his closet, but never made it past Pechta’s. In true Pavlovian style, he swung into the driveway, only vaguely aware that the lot was empty and the window displays dark. His mouth burned with the remembered taste of vodka as he pushed the door in. The interior lights were off and he hesitated. Had Amelia forgotten to lock up the night before? He hadn’t noticed her at the funeral but perhaps she’d sat on the far side and was among the mourners on the way to the cemetery. Cubiak turned to leave.
    â€œDave, that you? Come on in.” Amelia beckoned from the shadows at the far end of the bar.
    He moved toward her.
    â€œPull up a stool and join us,” she added.
    Too late, he realized Amelia was not alone.
    â€œYou two know each other?”
    Cate Wagner glanced up. Her hair, pulled back severely off her face, had turned dark, black like her sweatshirt and pants. They acknowledged each other warily.
    â€œYou at Alice’s service?” Amelia went on as she reached for an extra glass and poured three shots.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, at least they caught the bastard,” she said, shoving one drink at Cubiak and another at Cate. “To Alice,” she said, proffering a toast. “Poor kid.” The whiskey went down warm and smooth. Amelia poured a second round, passing over her own glass, then pushed the bottle to Cubiak.
    â€œHelp yourselves. I’m going to lie down. Bum knee’s killing me,” she said and shuffled toward the back room.
    Above the bar, a neon beer display sputtered on. Cubiak refilled his glass and offered the bottle to Cate.
    â€œI’m okay,” she said.
    He tossed down his drink and started to get up.
    â€œWait, please,” Cate said.
    He hesitated and then eased onto the edge of the stool, poised for flight. Cate reached for his arm but stopped short and rested her fingers on the counter. “I want to apologize for the other night. I didn’t mean anything by it, just trying to be friendly.”
    Cubiak tensed. He didn’t want to have this conversation.
    â€œYou never mentioned you had a daughter.”
    Their eyes met in the cracked mirror. His were steel hard; hers soft with sympathy and something else Cubiak couldn’t read. He looked away.
    â€œRuby told me. Last night.”
    Cubiak swallowed another shot. The story was getting around.
    â€œYou want to tell me about