Read Online Freezer I'll Shoot (A Vintage Kitchen Mystery) by Victoria Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Hamilton
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that. Before my time, though you wouldn’t know it to look at me!” he said, and let out a bellowing laugh.
Jaymie eyed him, entranced by his larger-than-life character. “They’ve got those old ice chests at the back; they use them for storage. Ruby was telling me all about it.”
“Hey, d’you know, my wife and I love the old movies. Just watching one the other night,
Some Like It Hot . . .
Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis, you know? There’s a scene in that where Marilyn Monroe’s character is breaking ice chips off a block for drinks. What is that thing they use for that, chipping ice off a block?”
“An ice pick!” Jaymie said, delighted by the reference. “Garnet took one down off the wall to show me! Very cool.”
“It’s like a long steel thing, right, kind of like a stiletto?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet he was happy to put that back up on the wall; not the kind of thing you’d want to leave lying around in a bar.”
“I guess . . .” She frowned and took a sip of coffee. “I don’t remember him putting it up on the wall, now that I think of it.”
“Really? That’s odd. What did he do with it?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. It didn’t matter.
“Well, he was probably distracted from putting it back in place when that Dobrinskie fellow stormed in and started insulting his sister, right?”
“Not exactly,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She glanced over at Zack; he was stirring his cup and staring out the back window. Something was not right. “What’s going on here?” she asked, meeting the chief’s gaze.
“We’re investigating the death of Urban Dobrinskie, who was found by you in your backyard at”—he consulted the small notebook that had, until that moment, been concealed in his ham-sized fist—“approximately two twenty a.m.”
“Yes. I don’t think I follow.”
“It’s important to establish who would have had a run-in with Mr. Dobrinskie in the hours preceding his death. Both the Redmonds fall into that category.”
It still didn’t make any sense, and Zack was still not meeting her eyes. “Not exactly . . . not in the hours before his . . . his death. That was night before last, that they had that confrontation. And then it was just an argument over sails,” she said. “No one murders anyone over a sail!”
“But Mr. Dobrinskie then insulted Miss Redmond rather gravely, and Mr. Redmond punched him in the face.”
She was silent, but shook her head.
“No, he didn’t punch Dobrinskie? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, he did punch the guy, but . . . that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I understand that while in the restaurant you took photos of the wall of tools and of the ice pick that Mr. Redmond took down. I am officially requesting your camera for forensic purposes. If you tell me where it is, Detective Christian will retrieve it.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, a cold chill shaking her.
“I’d like to compare your photo against the old green handled ice pick that was found on the scene. Under the body of Urban Dobrinskie.”
Six
S HE HAD SEEN and handled the murder weapon? The green-handled ice pick had killed Urban Dobrinskie? It wasn’t possible. But if they said they found one under the body, it
had
to be the same one; there just couldn’t be two. Not that they were rare, really, but it would have to be an awful coincidence, if it was
another
green handled vintage ice pick. Numb with horror, Jaymie told Zack where to find the digital camera and he impounded it, giving her a receipt.
“How well do you know the Redmonds, Miss Leighton?” the chief asked, all pretense of friendly conversation now over.
“Uh, I’ve known them seven years or so, since they bought the cottage behind ours.”
He sat back in his chair, and it creaked a warning. “I asked how
well
you know them, not how
long
you’ve known them.”
She frowned and tried to push away the awful feeling that her world had just tipped on
Jaymie eyed him, entranced by his larger-than-life character. “They’ve got those old ice chests at the back; they use them for storage. Ruby was telling me all about it.”
“Hey, d’you know, my wife and I love the old movies. Just watching one the other night,
Some Like It Hot . . .
Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis, you know? There’s a scene in that where Marilyn Monroe’s character is breaking ice chips off a block for drinks. What is that thing they use for that, chipping ice off a block?”
“An ice pick!” Jaymie said, delighted by the reference. “Garnet took one down off the wall to show me! Very cool.”
“It’s like a long steel thing, right, kind of like a stiletto?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet he was happy to put that back up on the wall; not the kind of thing you’d want to leave lying around in a bar.”
“I guess . . .” She frowned and took a sip of coffee. “I don’t remember him putting it up on the wall, now that I think of it.”
“Really? That’s odd. What did he do with it?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. It didn’t matter.
“Well, he was probably distracted from putting it back in place when that Dobrinskie fellow stormed in and started insulting his sister, right?”
“Not exactly,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She glanced over at Zack; he was stirring his cup and staring out the back window. Something was not right. “What’s going on here?” she asked, meeting the chief’s gaze.
“We’re investigating the death of Urban Dobrinskie, who was found by you in your backyard at”—he consulted the small notebook that had, until that moment, been concealed in his ham-sized fist—“approximately two twenty a.m.”
“Yes. I don’t think I follow.”
“It’s important to establish who would have had a run-in with Mr. Dobrinskie in the hours preceding his death. Both the Redmonds fall into that category.”
It still didn’t make any sense, and Zack was still not meeting her eyes. “Not exactly . . . not in the hours before his . . . his death. That was night before last, that they had that confrontation. And then it was just an argument over sails,” she said. “No one murders anyone over a sail!”
“But Mr. Dobrinskie then insulted Miss Redmond rather gravely, and Mr. Redmond punched him in the face.”
She was silent, but shook her head.
“No, he didn’t punch Dobrinskie? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, he did punch the guy, but . . . that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I understand that while in the restaurant you took photos of the wall of tools and of the ice pick that Mr. Redmond took down. I am officially requesting your camera for forensic purposes. If you tell me where it is, Detective Christian will retrieve it.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, a cold chill shaking her.
“I’d like to compare your photo against the old green handled ice pick that was found on the scene. Under the body of Urban Dobrinskie.”
Six
S HE HAD SEEN and handled the murder weapon? The green-handled ice pick had killed Urban Dobrinskie? It wasn’t possible. But if they said they found one under the body, it
had
to be the same one; there just couldn’t be two. Not that they were rare, really, but it would have to be an awful coincidence, if it was
another
green handled vintage ice pick. Numb with horror, Jaymie told Zack where to find the digital camera and he impounded it, giving her a receipt.
“How well do you know the Redmonds, Miss Leighton?” the chief asked, all pretense of friendly conversation now over.
“Uh, I’ve known them seven years or so, since they bought the cottage behind ours.”
He sat back in his chair, and it creaked a warning. “I asked how
well
you know them, not how
long
you’ve known them.”
She frowned and tried to push away the awful feeling that her world had just tipped on
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