Read Online Murder Take Two by Charlene Weir - Free Book Online Page B

He’d also been the one to scale the tower. Good kid, Osey. Chock-full of local lore.
    Inside, she took the corridor covered with indoor-outdoor carpeting in an icky brown color and paused at the doorway of Osey and Parkhurst’s office. Osey wasn’t in. Parkhurst stood by his desk, back toward her, and turned before she could speak. The room was dim, not dark, but murky enough that she couldn’t see his eyes clearly. His face was carefully blank.
    â€œRight,” he said. “I’m on my way.” To your office was unspoken.
    Well, at least they were still a team, no need for dialogue. Her office had glass halfway down across the front. She flicked the light switch—more light, more clarity, right?—and adjusted the blinds to half-mast. During her first year the natives had stared at her like she was a strange and wondrous fish. She was from San Francisco. We know what that’s like. Freaks and perverts. The fishbowl effect still made her self-conscious. The carpet here was dark blue, not much better in quality, but at least better in color. The desk was gray metal, standard government issue, also the chair, swivel with green vinyl. The visitor’s chair was a wooden relic with arms. She hung her shoulder bag over the coat tree in the corner.
    She’d started as acting chief, temporary. The mayor didn’t like her; the townspeople didn’t like her and didn’t want an outsider, especially a woman, in the job. Members of the department agreed with both. There was no danger of permanence. Well, the acting recently got dropped. Now she was the real thing, and the mayor still didn’t like her, the townspeople still didn’t want her, and some of her officers still agreed with both.
    Parkhurst came in with two soft drink cans—a delaying tactic, she assumed—and handed her one. She bent up the tab and took a sip. He looked at her, paced to the window, held down a slat, and looked out at the street where streetlights were coming on.
    â€œWife?” She’d meant to be a little more smooth, work up to it with some finesse, for Christ’s sake, but the word just popped out. She put her feet on the desk, legs crossed at the ankles. Why had she given up smoking? This was a cigarette moment, if ever she saw one.
    With a knee, Parkhurst nudged the wooden armchair closer, sat low on his spine, and stretched his legs out. “Once upon a time,” he said. “Long long ago. Not now.”
    â€œYou were married to Laura Edwards.”
    He made a sound, half laugh, half snort. “She was just plain Laura Edwards back then.”
    He tipped the can, took a long drink, and rested it on his chest. “It was twelve years ago. We were a couple of kids. She thought I needed my horizons expanded. I thought she needed taking care of.” He gazed at the can, rubbed a thumb through the condensation, and took a quick swig. “It turned out we were both wrong.”
    His voice was flat: don’t push it, this is as far as I intend to go. If it had been only personal, Susan would have dropped it, but a death had occurred. She couldn’t simply let it hang there. “It seems like you might have made at least a mention of the fact that you were married.”
    â€œOh, hell, it was an awkward fact to just drop into conversation. Lovely weather we’re having. Oh, by the way, I used to be married to Laura Edwards.”
    Yes, actually, any normal person would have done just that. Especially when news got around that Laura Edwards was coming to town. Susan hadn’t known he’d ever been married at all, let alone to an actress of Edwards’s note.
    Parkhurst sat quietly, his hard gaze playing over her face. She had no idea what thoughts were behind the silence that stretched out. This case was going to be a bitch no matter which way she turned it.
    â€œHave you kept in touch with her over the years?”
    â€œNo.” He looked