Read Online Killer Cocktail by Sheryl J. Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Sheryl J. Anderson
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Myerson looked right at me. “Good article.”
“Thank you.” I made a point of smiling at him and sounding sincere. Not so much to impress him as to get under Detective Cook’s skin. I couldn’t tell if it worked on Detective Cook, but Detective Myerson returned the smile. I pressed my luck. “So this is a murder investigation.”
Detective Cook pivoted back, to control both me and her partner. “The medical examiner believes Ms. McCandless was struck forcibly by an object and then fell into the pool.”
“Have you recovered the weapon?”
“I’m sorry, I thought they said you were a journalist. You got your law degree from … ?”
Cassady raised her hand. “No, I’m the lawyer.”
“Do lawyers need to be called?” Mr. Vincent asked. His hand hovered near the telephone, like a Western gunfighter ready to draw.
Detective Cook took a deep breath. She wasn’t having quite as much fun now. “Not at all. I simply want to make sure I fully understand the situation before anyone’s memory
gets fuzzy or the situation gets too public or Aspen gets too crowded, that sort of thing.”
Rebecca rose before anyone could stop her. In shockingly level tones, she said, “What you don’t appreciate is who this family is and what we’ve just been through.”
Aunt Cynthia moved behind Rebecca quickly and put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s quite right. Your smirking inferences are an insult to all.”
Detective Cook’s hands slid up to her hips and rested there, pushing her jacket open. I don’t know if the gesture was meant to draw attention to her waning patience or to the gun on her hip, but it did both.
“I’d like to take just a few moments to review the time line of events David Vincent has already given,” Detective Myerson said, indicating David with a gentle nod. “Our thorough understanding of that timeline now will help avoid unpleasant confusions later.”
Mr. Vincent knows when he’s being spun. But I could see in his eyes an acknowledgment of both the situation and the quality of Detective Myerson’s spinning. He nodded and said, “David,” in a quiet but forceful voice.
David rose. Aunt Cynthia made a gesture Nelson seemed to understand and he led the way out, as though simply escorting David and the two detectives to the bathroom.
I checked to see how Tricia was handling all this and saw that same odd look on her face. Part sorrow and part rage. She caught me looking at her and turned away, a sure sign something huge was happening behind her poised facade.
Mr. Vincent picked up the phone. Mrs. Vincent pulled on her pearls. “She said no lawyers needed to be called.”
“Which is precisely why I’m calling.”
Mrs. Vincent quickly got up and walked over to dissuade her husband. Aunt Cynthia leaned in and the three of them
growled at each other like puppies over a common bowl. Rebecca buried her face in Richard’s chest and Cassady slipped away from Tricia to join me on the fringes.
“Should we leave?” she said quietly. She was trying to be nonchalant, but it doesn’t come easily to someone as driven as she is.
“The room or the county?”
“Both.”
“Desertion?”
“Good manners.”
It took a moment for Cassady’s absence to register with Tricia. As soon as it did, she hurried across the room to join us. She shifted her weight uneasily and picked determinedly at her cuticles. Her thumb was already bleeding.
“What aren’t you telling us?” I asked her gently.
“You’re the ones whispering.”
I tapped her ragged thumb. “But you’re the one shredding.”
She hid her hands behind her back like a small child. “How bad do you think it looks for Davey?”
“The significant other is always the first suspect,” I told her. Kyle had taught me that. “But they’ll move on soon enough. The important thing is, we know he didn’t do it.”
Tricia paused just a second too long before she nodded. That’s what the dark look was all about. She didn’t
“Thank you.” I made a point of smiling at him and sounding sincere. Not so much to impress him as to get under Detective Cook’s skin. I couldn’t tell if it worked on Detective Cook, but Detective Myerson returned the smile. I pressed my luck. “So this is a murder investigation.”
Detective Cook pivoted back, to control both me and her partner. “The medical examiner believes Ms. McCandless was struck forcibly by an object and then fell into the pool.”
“Have you recovered the weapon?”
“I’m sorry, I thought they said you were a journalist. You got your law degree from … ?”
Cassady raised her hand. “No, I’m the lawyer.”
“Do lawyers need to be called?” Mr. Vincent asked. His hand hovered near the telephone, like a Western gunfighter ready to draw.
Detective Cook took a deep breath. She wasn’t having quite as much fun now. “Not at all. I simply want to make sure I fully understand the situation before anyone’s memory
gets fuzzy or the situation gets too public or Aspen gets too crowded, that sort of thing.”
Rebecca rose before anyone could stop her. In shockingly level tones, she said, “What you don’t appreciate is who this family is and what we’ve just been through.”
Aunt Cynthia moved behind Rebecca quickly and put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s quite right. Your smirking inferences are an insult to all.”
Detective Cook’s hands slid up to her hips and rested there, pushing her jacket open. I don’t know if the gesture was meant to draw attention to her waning patience or to the gun on her hip, but it did both.
“I’d like to take just a few moments to review the time line of events David Vincent has already given,” Detective Myerson said, indicating David with a gentle nod. “Our thorough understanding of that timeline now will help avoid unpleasant confusions later.”
Mr. Vincent knows when he’s being spun. But I could see in his eyes an acknowledgment of both the situation and the quality of Detective Myerson’s spinning. He nodded and said, “David,” in a quiet but forceful voice.
David rose. Aunt Cynthia made a gesture Nelson seemed to understand and he led the way out, as though simply escorting David and the two detectives to the bathroom.
I checked to see how Tricia was handling all this and saw that same odd look on her face. Part sorrow and part rage. She caught me looking at her and turned away, a sure sign something huge was happening behind her poised facade.
Mr. Vincent picked up the phone. Mrs. Vincent pulled on her pearls. “She said no lawyers needed to be called.”
“Which is precisely why I’m calling.”
Mrs. Vincent quickly got up and walked over to dissuade her husband. Aunt Cynthia leaned in and the three of them
growled at each other like puppies over a common bowl. Rebecca buried her face in Richard’s chest and Cassady slipped away from Tricia to join me on the fringes.
“Should we leave?” she said quietly. She was trying to be nonchalant, but it doesn’t come easily to someone as driven as she is.
“The room or the county?”
“Both.”
“Desertion?”
“Good manners.”
It took a moment for Cassady’s absence to register with Tricia. As soon as it did, she hurried across the room to join us. She shifted her weight uneasily and picked determinedly at her cuticles. Her thumb was already bleeding.
“What aren’t you telling us?” I asked her gently.
“You’re the ones whispering.”
I tapped her ragged thumb. “But you’re the one shredding.”
She hid her hands behind her back like a small child. “How bad do you think it looks for Davey?”
“The significant other is always the first suspect,” I told her. Kyle had taught me that. “But they’ll move on soon enough. The important thing is, we know he didn’t do it.”
Tricia paused just a second too long before she nodded. That’s what the dark look was all about. She didn’t
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