Read Online Murder on the Mind by L.L. Bartlett - Free Book Online Page A

me.
    “Are you okay?”
    “I need to sit.” She led me over to the low couch. “This is embarrassing. I thought I was better, and now. . . .”
    She took in my lopsided haircut. “Were you in an accident?”
    “Mugged. In New York.”
    “That happened to my sister a couple of years ago.”
    Now that I had her sympathy, I might just get some information out of her. “My name’s Jeff. Jeff Resnick.”
    “Maggie Brennan,” she said, and offered her hand.
    My fingers clasped hers, my gaze captivated by her deep blue eyes.
    She wasn’t what you’d call beautiful. Fine lines around her eyes hinted at years of smiles. The color of her eyebrows didn’t match her auburn hair, cut in an out-of-date Dorothy Hamill wedge, but the style suited her. Her dark business suit made her look confident and competent.
    “Umm. My hand?” she prompted.
    Like a fool, I still clasped it.
    “Oh, sorry.” I pulled back my hand; the palm had gone moist again. “Did you say this was Mr. Sumner’s office? Wasn’t he the guy in the paper who—”
    “Yes. Isn’t it awful? I’m packing his personal things for his family.”
    “Did you know him?”
    “Everybody around here knew Matt.”
    “I’ll bet the bank practically had to shut down with everybody going to the funeral?”
    “Not as many went as you’d think. The rules for time off are strict. A bunch of managers went, but nobody I know would waste a vacation day for a bastard like him.” At my startled reaction, she quickly explained. “I can’t believe I said that. I just meant that he could be hard to get along with—a perfectionist who expected daily miracles from his subordinates. But nobody deserves to die like that.”
    I indicated the photos on the wall. “He must’ve been devoted to his family.”
    “Devoted to bailing them out of trouble.”
    “Oh?”
    She didn’t elaborate. In the pictures, Sumner’s children appeared to range in age from fifteen to thirty. No little tykes.
    “Did he have grandchildren?”
    “Not that I know of. His oldest son got married this past fall.”
    Okay. The invitation writer could’ve been Sumner’s girlfriend, with a baby—his baby? If so, someone had to know about them. The question was who? But the woman standing over me wasn’t the person to ask.
    “Are you feeling better now? I can show you to Ron’s office.”
    “If you wouldn’t mind.” I rose to my feet.
    She closed the door behind us. As she led the way down the corridor, I noticed how nicely her skirt fit. She paused at a door, knocked, then poked her head inside. “Ron? I think I found your errant visitor.” She held the door open for me.
    “Thanks. For your help.” I offered her my hand again. She took it and I held on.
    I liked Maggie Brennan.
    * * *
    Richard’s bank advisor was more interested in talking about trust funds than his murdered colleague. At my every attempt to change the subject, he’d jump in with some dull fact concerning loopholes and tax benefits Richard could enjoy if he’d entrust all his money to good old Ron. I didn’t much care for the man, and I suspected Richard felt the same, although he gave me a few sharp glances when Myers’s patience stretched thin. Eventually, I gave up.
    From the bank we crossed the street and headed for The Extra Point, a sports bar lavishly decorated with local sports memorabilia—especially the Buffalo Bills. I’d lived away from Buffalo for a long time, and although I still cheered for the team, I’d forgotten what they meant, not only to the city, but to all of western New York. Didn’t Richard say he had season tickets?
    Seated under one of Jim Kelly’s jerseys, we ordered lunch, and my physician watchdog brother actually allowed me to have a non-alcoholic beer. I could only look longingly at his glass of the genuine article.
    Over lunch, I filled Richard in on what I’d learned, leaving out my memory of meeting Sumner. He didn’t seem impressed.
    “Guess you didn’t expect all this