Read Online Don't Go Home by Carolyn Hart - Free Book Online Page A

me.”
    Billy, Hyla, and Lou moved fast and were swiftly out of sight, the TV reporter and Marian close behind. The patio with its embracing walls was only a few feet from the rear rows of chairs.
    There was a cessation of sound from the waiting audience and Annie knew the officers had been seen. She wondered if the earlier sound of sirens had been noticed or unheard in the crowd noise. Conversations broke off. Puzzled faces turned to watch as the obvious harbingers of something gone wrong strode onto the terrace and moved up the central aisle.
    There was the hollow knocking sound of a microphone being handled, then Billy’s voice was clear and distinct. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Griffith will be unable to speak this evening. I am sorry to report that his body was discovered shortly after eight P.M. He is apparently the victim of a homicide. It is important for us to know who was at the inn tonight. I ask everyone to remain seated until Officers Harrison and Pirelli have spoken to each of you and obtained your name and address. I’m sure everyone wants to cooperate. In addition, will anyone who feels that he or she may have information important to our investigation or any knowledge of Alex Griffith’smovements this evening please remain until an officer can speak with you.”
    Annie pictured Hyla and Lou setting about their task, impassive, professional, quick.
    Doc Burford shouldered his way past the drape, stopped on the patio.
    Billy came around the patio wall.
    Rae rose, moved toward the ME. “What did they do to him? What happened?”
    Doc Burford spoke carefully. “I can’t be certain of the cause of death until I complete an autopsy. My preliminary finding”—he glanced toward Billy—“is severe head trauma, which either stunned him or resulted in loss of consciousness. There are signs of asphyxia, which suggests the sofa pillow was used to suffocate him. The supposition is that he was struck down, toppled onto the sofa, then someone pressed the pillow against his face until he stopped breathing.” He moved heavily toward the path, looked back at Billy. “There’s a heavy, thick piece of wood, maybe a foot and a half long, at least two-inch circumference, lying near the sofa. Probably the weapon. I’ll see if I find fragments of bark.”
    Rae clasped her hands tightly together. Her face held a look of horror.
    Annie knew Rae was creating a scene in her mind: her husband, handsome, alive, leaning back on the sofa, someone moving behind him, raising an arm to bring down a piece of wood with brute, final force.
    A bloodied piece of heavy wood.
    Annie hadn’t seen the weapon in the short space of time she was in the sitting room, but the presence of a weapon meant someone came prepared. Annie visualized a heavy stick as described by theME. A foot and a half in length was half again as long as a ruler. More than a two-inch circumference was larger than a blackjack. A weapon that size could be slipped beneath a loose shirt, held tight against one side by the pressure of an arm. A weapon that size could be tucked in a woman’s oversized purse. That afternoon someone must have walked along a forest path, looking, searching, until the right broken-off piece of wood was spotted. Hard wood, nothing soft or rotten. A brilliant choice for a bludgeon. The rough bark would probably hold no fingerprints. To be certain, a handkerchief or soft cloth likely had been used to protect the hand.
    Doc Burford was across the patio and stepping onto the oyster shell path.
    â€œDoc.” Marian Kenyon moved out of a shadow on the far side of the path.
    Annie wondered how she’d slipped unnoticed from the terrace. But her presence would not surprise Billy. Marian was always on the spot with breaking news, rules be damned.
    Marian held a pen above her notebook. “Can I quote you on the preliminary finding?”
    Burford nodded, moved past her without