Read Online Good Little Wives by Abby Drake - Free Book Online Page A

brain or mon dieu suddenly exclaimed.
    Without wasting a second, she raced downstairs to Randall’s den. She flew to the Rubens in the gilt frame on the wall (Rubens was one of Randall’s favorites, a fantasy he lived outthrough Bridget’s full breasts). She pulled back the right side, spun the dial right, left, right, then tugged at the handle.
    And there it was: the navy blue, pocket-size folder with the word “PASSPORT” hot-stamped in gold on the cover.
    With a wide, happy smile, Bridget extracted the document. Then she closed the safe slowly, replaced the painting, and realized she needed to restore Randall’s dressing room to its neat, anal order before he returned from the club.
    In the meantime she’d find a perfect spot to hide his passport. What a pity he wouldn’t be able to leave the country without it. And she would have to get Aimée after all.
    Â 
    Dana had been in the New Falls police station once when Michael was twelve and had stolen pumpkins from Mr. White’s garden and pitched them into the Hudson to see if they’d float, which, according to Michael, they did.
    It didn’t look like the old brick police station where she’d gone the night her father had been arrested.
    In New Falls the station was built out of limestone and had peculiar sharp angles that mimicked the library and the town hall.
    â€œI’d like to speak with the investigator in charge of the Vincent DeLano case,” she said to the officer who sat at the welcoming desk.
    The cop eyed her like a glazed cruller.
    â€œAbout what?” he asked.
    She realized she was still wearing her funeral clothes that exposed her as a New Falls wife—one of those . “About who might have killed him.”
    Her point had been made; he picked up the phone and called an extension. She was quickly escorted to Detective Glen Johnson’s office, a square glass cubicle with a desk and no windows.
    â€œWe have the killer,” Johnson said, standing up. He was a tall man, angular like the building. He leaned against his desk and folded his arms. “A neighbor called and reported hearing a gunshot. When we arrived, the killer was standing there, holding the gun.”
    â€œPlease,” Dana said. “The woman you’ve arrested is my friend. And I don’t know if she killed Vincent or not, but I do know someone else might have had a motive.”
    He studied her face.
    She shifted on one foot.
    â€œVincent DeLano was a ladies’ man,” she said, wondering if that were an outdated term. “Before he married Yolanda, while he was still married to Kitty, I know that he had at least one affair.”
    â€œWith…?”
    â€œWell, I can’t tell you that.”
    â€œBut you know this because…?”
    â€œBecause I was told.”
    â€œBy a reliable source?”
    â€œYes.”
    He unfolded his arms, tented his fingers. “That woman wouldn’t have been you, I suppose?”
    â€œMe?” Good grief, she hadn’t thought he’d accuse her. “Look, Officer, I’m trying to help. Kitty is my friend and I didn’t sleep with her husband, but someone else did. Whichmeans that at least one other person might have wanted to kill him.”
    He nodded and said, “By the way, where you were at eleven-thirty that morning?”
    â€œEleven-thirty? Why?”
    He raised an eyebrow. She got the message.
    â€œEleven-thirty,” she repeated. “Well, I was having my manicure for Caroline’s luncheon. Caroline Meacham.”
    â€œWe know about Ms. Meacham and her spring party. We might not be Manhattan’s Twenty-seventh Precinct, but we know what we’re doing.”
    Apparently Detective Johnson was a Law & Order fan, too.
    She sat down on a nearby metal chair. “Why do you care what I was doing in the morning?”
    He circled his desk and pointed to his computer screen. “We have new information. The