Read Online The Boric Acid Murder by Camille Minichino - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Camille Minichino
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Police Procedural, Massachusetts, Detective and Mystery Stories; American, Boston (Mass.), Lamerino; Gloria (Fictitious Character), Women Physicists, Revere Beach (Mass.), Boric acid
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brought Matt, a teetotaler like me, a bottle of mineral water. All eyes were on him as he addressed the lawyers. “I’m here as a friend.”
They nodded and gave identical waves of their hands, indicating they understood. I imagined the gesture had a Latin name, something with mano in it, something they learned in law school.
“They found a box of stuff in your closet, John,” Matt said, his voice soft and caring, but with an unmistakable note of worry. I noted how he appeared to distance himself from them .
“What kind of stuff?” Rose asked. I saw frustration take over her face, and hoped she wouldn’t turn it on Matt.
“How did they get a search warrant?” Frank asked. He’d moved toward Rose and put his arm around her.
The lawyers stood by, not participating in the conversation. I figured they knew what they were doing and that their silence had some legal significance. I imagined them later, in a courtroom, denying they had knowledge of the search warrant or of this conversation.
“The judge gave it to them, on the basis of some letters found in Yolanda’s apartment, and also on the fact that Yolanda’s briefcase, which she had at dinner with John, was missing.”
“But what about Derek Byrne?” I asked him. “Didn’t he let Yolanda into the library? Did she have it then?” I knew there were too many questions facing Matt at once, but I wasn’t moved to make it easy for him. The messenger.
Matt nodded. “Derek says she had the briefcase when he let her in.”
“So how could John have taken it?”
“They think he went back later, and—”
“Why would he want her briefcase?” I asked, aware that ordinarily Matt wouldn’t answer questions that threw him off track. But he was here as a friend, I reminded myself.
“Well, there might have been more threatening letters. Maybe Yolanda brought them to dinner in an attempt to extract something from John. Maybe she made her own threats, to go to the police with them.” He held up his hands, as if to stem the tide of upset he expected to come his way. “I’m giving you potentials, here, because you asked.”
Matt turned to John, regaining control of the unsolicited question and answer period. “The good news: no briefcase in your apartment. However, they did find the crate on the floor of your closet. The one with photos of you and Yolanda. Plus, programs that look like they might be from dates. Tickets from concerts, plays. Letters and cards.”
“So he saves souvenirs. That doesn’t mean he killed her.” Rose crossed the room and stood behind John, putting her hands on his shoulders.
Matt took a sip of his water and let out a long breath. I realized I’d been holding mine in. This time he kept his eyes on John.
“There was a stack of clippings from newspapers. Back several years. All with Yolanda Fiore’s byline.”
“So he keeps clippings. He’s a journalist.” Although Rose moved her hands to her hips in a defiant posture, her voice was pleading. I hoped she wouldn’t lose control.
“John?” Matt addressed him quietly, and I supposed he wished he had the suspect to himself. I was pleased and surprised that the lawyers still hadn’t interfered, except through body language. Nick Ciccolo rubbed his fists together as he paced in front of the fireplace. Mike Canty bit his knuckles, a gesture that made me wonder if he was half Italian. In another situation, Rose would have filled me in on his ethnicity on the spot.
John raised bloodshot eyes to Matt. “I cared about Yolanda. I never wanted to break up. I know it was silly to keep that stuff, but I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”
“How did he know someone was going to kill her? Maybe I should go upstairs right now and see what I’ve kept, just in case someday …” Rose turned away, clearly making a great effort to
stay calm and rational. Every time she addressed Matt I worried that she’d lash out at him, or dismiss him, as she’d done to me. I
They nodded and gave identical waves of their hands, indicating they understood. I imagined the gesture had a Latin name, something with mano in it, something they learned in law school.
“They found a box of stuff in your closet, John,” Matt said, his voice soft and caring, but with an unmistakable note of worry. I noted how he appeared to distance himself from them .
“What kind of stuff?” Rose asked. I saw frustration take over her face, and hoped she wouldn’t turn it on Matt.
“How did they get a search warrant?” Frank asked. He’d moved toward Rose and put his arm around her.
The lawyers stood by, not participating in the conversation. I figured they knew what they were doing and that their silence had some legal significance. I imagined them later, in a courtroom, denying they had knowledge of the search warrant or of this conversation.
“The judge gave it to them, on the basis of some letters found in Yolanda’s apartment, and also on the fact that Yolanda’s briefcase, which she had at dinner with John, was missing.”
“But what about Derek Byrne?” I asked him. “Didn’t he let Yolanda into the library? Did she have it then?” I knew there were too many questions facing Matt at once, but I wasn’t moved to make it easy for him. The messenger.
Matt nodded. “Derek says she had the briefcase when he let her in.”
“So how could John have taken it?”
“They think he went back later, and—”
“Why would he want her briefcase?” I asked, aware that ordinarily Matt wouldn’t answer questions that threw him off track. But he was here as a friend, I reminded myself.
“Well, there might have been more threatening letters. Maybe Yolanda brought them to dinner in an attempt to extract something from John. Maybe she made her own threats, to go to the police with them.” He held up his hands, as if to stem the tide of upset he expected to come his way. “I’m giving you potentials, here, because you asked.”
Matt turned to John, regaining control of the unsolicited question and answer period. “The good news: no briefcase in your apartment. However, they did find the crate on the floor of your closet. The one with photos of you and Yolanda. Plus, programs that look like they might be from dates. Tickets from concerts, plays. Letters and cards.”
“So he saves souvenirs. That doesn’t mean he killed her.” Rose crossed the room and stood behind John, putting her hands on his shoulders.
Matt took a sip of his water and let out a long breath. I realized I’d been holding mine in. This time he kept his eyes on John.
“There was a stack of clippings from newspapers. Back several years. All with Yolanda Fiore’s byline.”
“So he keeps clippings. He’s a journalist.” Although Rose moved her hands to her hips in a defiant posture, her voice was pleading. I hoped she wouldn’t lose control.
“John?” Matt addressed him quietly, and I supposed he wished he had the suspect to himself. I was pleased and surprised that the lawyers still hadn’t interfered, except through body language. Nick Ciccolo rubbed his fists together as he paced in front of the fireplace. Mike Canty bit his knuckles, a gesture that made me wonder if he was half Italian. In another situation, Rose would have filled me in on his ethnicity on the spot.
John raised bloodshot eyes to Matt. “I cared about Yolanda. I never wanted to break up. I know it was silly to keep that stuff, but I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”
“How did he know someone was going to kill her? Maybe I should go upstairs right now and see what I’ve kept, just in case someday …” Rose turned away, clearly making a great effort to
stay calm and rational. Every time she addressed Matt I worried that she’d lash out at him, or dismiss him, as she’d done to me. I
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