Read Online Nightmares Can Be Murder (A Dream Club Mystery) by Mary Kennedy - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Kennedy
Ads: Link
managed to deal with crisis after crisis and maintain their emotional equilibrium.
“They’re here,” Ali said quietly. Two squad cars pulled up fast with lights flashing, and I watched as Samantha Stiles jumped out and headed for the studio. She nodded at us, her gaze sweeping over Gina sitting on the curb. Sam gave me a questioning look, and when I shrugged, she made a sharp gesture with her fingers splayed.
“All of you, stay right here.” She was obviously the incident commander and spoke with quiet authority to three uniformed officers who accompanied her. “The ME’s on her way. Nobody in or out until she gives the okay.” She stepped into the studio and approached the paramedics, who were packing up their equipment. “What do we have here?” she said, indicating the prone Chico. “Any idea on time of death?” I knew the medical examiner would have the final word on this, but I suppose she wanted a rough estimate.
“We got the call eighteen minutes ago,” one of the paramedics told her, consulting her clipboard. She turned away from the doorway and I caught the words “dead for some time” and “rigor has set in.” I cringed and took a deep breath, determined to hold it together. Gina was crying softly to herself, and I wondered if it was the result of shock, or if she was genuinely upset at Chico’s death.
A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, and one of the uniformed officers pushed everyone back when the coroner’s van arrived a couple of minutes later. “Nothing to see here, folks, nothing to see,” he said, which didn’t help to dispel their curiosity.
Dr. Ranklin, a petite woman with sharp features, emerged from the van and snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. She walked into the dance studio, pulling the door closed behind her. Now the gawkers turned their attention to the tearstained Gina, sitting unhappily at the curb, just as another wave of dizziness hit me.
“We’re going across the street,” I said to the nearest officer, who barely looked old enough to shave. I tried to put a little steel in my voice even though I was feeling shaky. “My sister’s shop is right there, and we live above it.”
“Ma’am,” he began uncertainly, “I think Detective Stiles wants you to remain here—”
“My friend is ill,” I cut in firmly. “Detective Stiles knows where we live, and she can interview us the moment she comes out.” I pointed to Oldies but Goodies for emphasis. “See, we’re just across the street. We’ll wait for her inside.”
Before he could raise another objection, I walked over to Gina, grasped her by the elbow, and briskly pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get her inside,” I said to Ali, who had tucked her arm around Gina’s waist. “Something hot to drink will work wonders for all of us.” A good shot of brandy might have been a better choice, but I felt uncomfortable suggesting it, with the young officer listening to my every word.
“Sit,” I ordered Gina the moment we were upstairs. The color was slowly coming back to her face, but her features were haggard and drawn.
“Shall I make her some herb tea?” Ali asked, fluttering around. She began pulling strange-smelling teas from the cabinet and piling them on the kitchen table. She’s fond of teas I’ve never heard of, made from exotic herbs and vegetables. Some of them are appealing, but others smell like dirty feet, and I knew Gina needed caffeine in her system.
I studied Gina, who was motionless, her hands resting in her lap, staring blankly at the gingham tablecloth. “Forget the herb tea, I think she needs some strong espresso.” Ali raised a questioning eyebrow at me. “I bought some; it’s on the top shelf.”
Ali made a little moue of disapproval, but began brewing the espresso. In a few moments, a lovely fragrance filled the kitchen. She pulled out a pan of strudel that was homemade from Granny Smith apples and cut generous wedges.
“Eat, Gina,” I said, pushing a
“They’re here,” Ali said quietly. Two squad cars pulled up fast with lights flashing, and I watched as Samantha Stiles jumped out and headed for the studio. She nodded at us, her gaze sweeping over Gina sitting on the curb. Sam gave me a questioning look, and when I shrugged, she made a sharp gesture with her fingers splayed.
“All of you, stay right here.” She was obviously the incident commander and spoke with quiet authority to three uniformed officers who accompanied her. “The ME’s on her way. Nobody in or out until she gives the okay.” She stepped into the studio and approached the paramedics, who were packing up their equipment. “What do we have here?” she said, indicating the prone Chico. “Any idea on time of death?” I knew the medical examiner would have the final word on this, but I suppose she wanted a rough estimate.
“We got the call eighteen minutes ago,” one of the paramedics told her, consulting her clipboard. She turned away from the doorway and I caught the words “dead for some time” and “rigor has set in.” I cringed and took a deep breath, determined to hold it together. Gina was crying softly to herself, and I wondered if it was the result of shock, or if she was genuinely upset at Chico’s death.
A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, and one of the uniformed officers pushed everyone back when the coroner’s van arrived a couple of minutes later. “Nothing to see here, folks, nothing to see,” he said, which didn’t help to dispel their curiosity.
Dr. Ranklin, a petite woman with sharp features, emerged from the van and snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. She walked into the dance studio, pulling the door closed behind her. Now the gawkers turned their attention to the tearstained Gina, sitting unhappily at the curb, just as another wave of dizziness hit me.
“We’re going across the street,” I said to the nearest officer, who barely looked old enough to shave. I tried to put a little steel in my voice even though I was feeling shaky. “My sister’s shop is right there, and we live above it.”
“Ma’am,” he began uncertainly, “I think Detective Stiles wants you to remain here—”
“My friend is ill,” I cut in firmly. “Detective Stiles knows where we live, and she can interview us the moment she comes out.” I pointed to Oldies but Goodies for emphasis. “See, we’re just across the street. We’ll wait for her inside.”
Before he could raise another objection, I walked over to Gina, grasped her by the elbow, and briskly pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get her inside,” I said to Ali, who had tucked her arm around Gina’s waist. “Something hot to drink will work wonders for all of us.” A good shot of brandy might have been a better choice, but I felt uncomfortable suggesting it, with the young officer listening to my every word.
“Sit,” I ordered Gina the moment we were upstairs. The color was slowly coming back to her face, but her features were haggard and drawn.
“Shall I make her some herb tea?” Ali asked, fluttering around. She began pulling strange-smelling teas from the cabinet and piling them on the kitchen table. She’s fond of teas I’ve never heard of, made from exotic herbs and vegetables. Some of them are appealing, but others smell like dirty feet, and I knew Gina needed caffeine in her system.
I studied Gina, who was motionless, her hands resting in her lap, staring blankly at the gingham tablecloth. “Forget the herb tea, I think she needs some strong espresso.” Ali raised a questioning eyebrow at me. “I bought some; it’s on the top shelf.”
Ali made a little moue of disapproval, but began brewing the espresso. In a few moments, a lovely fragrance filled the kitchen. She pulled out a pan of strudel that was homemade from Granny Smith apples and cut generous wedges.
“Eat, Gina,” I said, pushing a
Similar Books
