Read Online The Magic of Murder by Susan Lynn Solomon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Lynn Solomon
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a man hissed from outside. “Open the damn door!”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I recognized the voice—or at least the syntax. It was Kevin. I hadn’t heard from him in four, six years; hadn’t seen him in longer. Now he was in my backyard in the middle of the night?
I yanked the blind aside. With his face pasted against the window, my former husband looked like my worst nightmare come to life.
“What are you doing out there?” I said.
“Dammit, let me in!” He shook his fist—definitely not a gesture that would elicit my compliance.
I positioned my face close to the cold windowpanes. With my lips nearly on the glass, I said, “What do you want?”
“Will you never stop talking?” he said.
“Fine,” I said, “I’ll stop right now.”
I dropped the mini-blind, and checked the lock on the door.
Elvira crawled from under the skirt of the wingback chair. Good, you’ve come to your senses, she seemed to say.
“Emlyn!” Kevin yelled. Then, as if he realized bullying me wouldn’t work, in a softer tone, he said, “Please.”
What is it about a man begging that melts a woman’s heart, even if she’s spent the last seven years cursing the day he was born? I rolled my eyes and swung the door open.
Now at my feet, looking up, Elvira glared a question at me. What is wrong with you!
I shrugged.
She turned her back and walked off with a snort suggesting a catty remark about things humans never learn.
Kevin’s round face looked as though it hadn’t been shaved in days. Beneath the stubble, his skin was almost as gray as his cap. His gray overcoat was dusty and where the dust hadn’t stuck, the coat was stained. His shoes appeared to be so drenched he might have slogged through the snow for a week.
I stood in the doorway, my arms wrapped around my chest. I tried hard not to sound as though I gloated when I said, “You look terrible. The bimbo’s not taking good care of you?”
He pushed past me. “She moved out,” he said, and slouched down on my sofa.
I didn’t mind his wet shoes leaving footprints on my carpet, or his damp coat staining the flowered cushions of my sofa. Those could be easily cleaned. But the way he looked, so desperate—I felt as though I’d been given a late Christmas gift, tied up in red ribbons.
“Oh, she left you?” I was barely able to hide my smile.
“You don’t have to look so happy about it.”
“You’re right,” I said, and forced a frown. “I’m sooo sorry to hear that, Kevin. What happened? She finally figured out you’re a bucket of slime?”
He peered at the French doors, as if he were afraid he’d been followed. “The money ran out, and so did she.”
To hide what had grown into a wide grin, I turned toward the kitchen and looked at the telephone. I wanted to call Rebecca, tell her what a good job we’d done on my ex. I wanted him hear I was the cause of his distress. Ah, that would have been such sweet revenge. I was stopped, though, by another thought. Turning to him, I said, “You don’t expect me to take you back, do you?”
His moist brown eyes seemed to ask if I might. But instead, he shook his head. “I know it’s too late for us.” Again he glanced at the French doors. “What I need is a place to…uh, stay for a while.”
I followed his eyes. “You mean you need a place to hide out? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Tears spilled from his eyes. “Yeah. Big time. I really screwed up, Emlyn. But it was just so…easy.” He straightened up, wrapped his coat tight around his chest, and shivered.
Without taking my eyes from him, I backed past the coffee table and settled primly on the wingback chair. “What was easy, Kevin?” I leaned forward, hands clasped between my knees. “What did you get yourself into?”
He ignored me. As if speaking to himself, he said, “Yeah, so easy. Should’ve set me up for life—” He looked up at me through red eyes. “You gotta help me. Let me stay a
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I recognized the voice—or at least the syntax. It was Kevin. I hadn’t heard from him in four, six years; hadn’t seen him in longer. Now he was in my backyard in the middle of the night?
I yanked the blind aside. With his face pasted against the window, my former husband looked like my worst nightmare come to life.
“What are you doing out there?” I said.
“Dammit, let me in!” He shook his fist—definitely not a gesture that would elicit my compliance.
I positioned my face close to the cold windowpanes. With my lips nearly on the glass, I said, “What do you want?”
“Will you never stop talking?” he said.
“Fine,” I said, “I’ll stop right now.”
I dropped the mini-blind, and checked the lock on the door.
Elvira crawled from under the skirt of the wingback chair. Good, you’ve come to your senses, she seemed to say.
“Emlyn!” Kevin yelled. Then, as if he realized bullying me wouldn’t work, in a softer tone, he said, “Please.”
What is it about a man begging that melts a woman’s heart, even if she’s spent the last seven years cursing the day he was born? I rolled my eyes and swung the door open.
Now at my feet, looking up, Elvira glared a question at me. What is wrong with you!
I shrugged.
She turned her back and walked off with a snort suggesting a catty remark about things humans never learn.
Kevin’s round face looked as though it hadn’t been shaved in days. Beneath the stubble, his skin was almost as gray as his cap. His gray overcoat was dusty and where the dust hadn’t stuck, the coat was stained. His shoes appeared to be so drenched he might have slogged through the snow for a week.
I stood in the doorway, my arms wrapped around my chest. I tried hard not to sound as though I gloated when I said, “You look terrible. The bimbo’s not taking good care of you?”
He pushed past me. “She moved out,” he said, and slouched down on my sofa.
I didn’t mind his wet shoes leaving footprints on my carpet, or his damp coat staining the flowered cushions of my sofa. Those could be easily cleaned. But the way he looked, so desperate—I felt as though I’d been given a late Christmas gift, tied up in red ribbons.
“Oh, she left you?” I was barely able to hide my smile.
“You don’t have to look so happy about it.”
“You’re right,” I said, and forced a frown. “I’m sooo sorry to hear that, Kevin. What happened? She finally figured out you’re a bucket of slime?”
He peered at the French doors, as if he were afraid he’d been followed. “The money ran out, and so did she.”
To hide what had grown into a wide grin, I turned toward the kitchen and looked at the telephone. I wanted to call Rebecca, tell her what a good job we’d done on my ex. I wanted him hear I was the cause of his distress. Ah, that would have been such sweet revenge. I was stopped, though, by another thought. Turning to him, I said, “You don’t expect me to take you back, do you?”
His moist brown eyes seemed to ask if I might. But instead, he shook his head. “I know it’s too late for us.” Again he glanced at the French doors. “What I need is a place to…uh, stay for a while.”
I followed his eyes. “You mean you need a place to hide out? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Tears spilled from his eyes. “Yeah. Big time. I really screwed up, Emlyn. But it was just so…easy.” He straightened up, wrapped his coat tight around his chest, and shivered.
Without taking my eyes from him, I backed past the coffee table and settled primly on the wingback chair. “What was easy, Kevin?” I leaned forward, hands clasped between my knees. “What did you get yourself into?”
He ignored me. As if speaking to himself, he said, “Yeah, so easy. Should’ve set me up for life—” He looked up at me through red eyes. “You gotta help me. Let me stay a
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