Read Online Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) by Elaine Macko - Free Book Online

the funeral home to pick out an urn. I’m having Humphrey cremated. I thought it a fitting choice. The man should burn in hell for all eternity.”
    “I wanted to talk with you about the divorce. You said Mr. Bryson told you he wanted a divorce and he would sooner kill you then let you get any of his money.”
    “Yes, that’s correct.” Sophie sat on a plush sofa wearing a black skirt and a black sweater with sequins around the neck.
    “He made threats. Weren’t you afraid to be alone in the house with him?”
    Sophie examined what looked like freshly painted finger nails. “If I left, it could be seen as abandoning the house and he would never leave. We were in separate rooms and I can assure you I locked my door at night and put a chair in front of it just in case he tried to get in.”
    “What a horrible way to live. How long had this been going on?” I asked.
    “Yes, well, there was a lot at stake. As to how long, I guess about a month. That’s when he told me he wanted a divorce.”
    “Were you aware of, well, of—”
    “Humphrey and other women? Of course. He certainly didn’t try to hide it. You saw for yourself the night of the pickleball supper. He had his hands all over Marie.”
    “Didn’t that bother you?”
    “Of course it did. But ammunition, my dear, ammunition.”
    “Excuse me? I’m not following.”
    “I wanted him to continue with his despicable ways. You see, I hired someone to follow him. Take pictures, catch him in the act.”
    “So you knew about—” I was having a hard time bringing all of her dirty laundry out in the open.
    “His little rendezvous at the beach? Yes. I have pictures. A loathsome man, the private detective I mean, not Humphrey, though he was a loathsome creature as well. You can get anyone to do anything if the price is right.” Sophie got up and walked to a table against the wall, opened a drawer and took out a card. “Here you go. His card. You may want to talk with him.”
    “How did you find this person?”
    “Mr. Roder? He plays pickleball sometimes. He’s an ex cop. He gave me his card at one of the games. I think he was trying to drum up business. Anyway, I dug out the card and gave him a call.”
    I heard a car drive up and a few minutes later a man I would put in his early fifties came into the room.
    “Alex, this is my son, Robert. Robert, this is Alex, the woman I told you about. She’s looking into finding your father’s killer. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go freshen up so we can go.”
    I watched Mrs. Bryson leave the room and then turned to Robert. He had inherited his father’s rather short stature and more than a bit of his personality, I was afraid, if the smirk on his face was any indication.
    “You’ve got your work cut out for you. I bet you can’t find one person who gives a damn my father was killed.”
    “Yes, that certainly seems to be the case. And you?”
    “Oh, you can put me on the list of people jumping for joy at his demise.”
    “So what do you do, Robert?”
    “A little of this, a bit of that.” Robert ran a hand over his almost bald head. “I’m kind of between jobs right now.”
    “And did you know your father planned to divorce your mother?”
    “I did. He told mother we would both be cut off once and for all.”
    “That seems rather harsh,” I said.
    Robert shook his head. “Not really. That’s how he was. He was only interested in making people as miserable as he was. Personally, I thought it was a great idea for my mother to be free of him, but she wasn’t about to go without a fight.”
    “And her fair share of the pie,” I added.
    Robert treated me to his snarky smile again. “Exactly. She has a good lawyer and things were falling into place.”
    “Okay. I’m ready. Shall we take your car, Robert?” Sophie asked. She had put on a fresh coat of lipstick and a beautiful tweed coat.
    “Certainly. I’m just going to need some money for gas.” Robert smiled at his mother.
    “Of