Read Online Seaweed in the Soup by Stanley Evans - Free Book Online Page A

think anything otherwise stretches credulity beyond the breaking point. Face it. The girls might have been taking orders from somebody else. Twinner Scudd maybe. But they did it all right.”
    The door opened. Mrs. Nairn came in carrying a tray and put it on the desk. I poured two cups of coffee and helped myself to three chocolate chip cookies. Bernie moved the remaining three cookies beyond my reach before adding sugar to his own cup.
    He put a cookie in his mouth and crunched into it. Broadcasting crumbs, he tapped the binder on his desk and said, “The Murder Book is filling up nicely. Dr. Tarleton’s estimate, based on rigor and temperature, is that Cho bled to death and died two or three hours before Mrs. Milton found him. The back of Cho’s head was caved in first by a single blow from a heavy object, and I’m betting that the DNA on that slavekiller club is a match for that blood in Cho’s bedroom. Tarleton found a partially digested Chinese dinner in Cho’s stomach. And there’s more evidence, because Cho grappled with his killer. At the autopsy, foreign human skin tissue and blood was found under his fingernails.
    â€œIn addition, we have Inspector Manners’ account of an interview with Tudor Collins, the guy who made that 911 call. He is a steady seventy-year-old man who has lived in Victoria his whole life. Collins knows the difference between a Native Indian and a Chinese. According to Mr. Collins, the two women that he dimed were Native Indians. I keep going over the same ground, Silas, because you are a hard man to convince sometimes. Look at it this way: that slavekiller club is Indian. Twinner Scudd is Indian. One might assume, given the time frame involved, and after sexual intercourse with Cho, the aforementioned Indian sex partner turned around and murdered him. So who do you think the finger is actually pointing at?”
    â€œA giant female spider?”
    My flippant remark rolled right off him. “The finger is pointing at two Native Indian girls.”
    â€œWomen,” I corrected him. “And that’s another giant leap, Bernie . . . ”
    Bernie butted in. “It’s a working hypothesis with a very high probability of being proved accurate.”
    â€œDo you want me to go up against Twinner Scudd?”
    Bernie looked at the coffee grounds inside his empty cup as if for an answer, but apparently didn’t see one. “Frankly, if Twinner Scudd is involved, I’d like to dump this whole case, but that’s not an option. Because of the Native angle, I’d like to get you involved in the case. Interested?”
    I felt a huge surge of relief; Bernie’s insistence that the two girls had killed Cho bothered me greatly. I said, “Sure, I’m glad you asked. I’d be happy to get involved, as long as I can work out of my own office instead of headquarters.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with working out of headquarters?”
    â€œNothing. I’ve got responsibilities to my neighbourhood, is all. Irons in the fire that need watching.”
    â€œFine, you are co-opted into this mess as of now. I’ll square things with the front office. Poke around generally, but don’t go poking yourself too far up Twinner Scudd’s ugly nose. Or up Nice Manners’ pretty nose. As a first priority, I need to find out who the other Native woman is and what really went on at Echo Bay.”
    Bernie pressed a button on his desk intercom and asked Mrs. Nairn to send Ricketts in.
    The young constable looked miserable. The dark half-circles under his eyes suggested that Ricketts hadn’t been sleeping much. He also appeared to have lost a little weight.
    Instead of acknowledging Ricketts, Bernie opened the murder book. After scanning a couple of pages to refresh his memory, Bernie said matter-of-factly, “You look nervous, Ricketts.”
    â€œSir? I am nervous. I’m suspended from duty, but I hope