Read Online The Pride Trilogy: Kyle Callahan 1-3 by Mark McNease - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark McNease
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torture; her hair was dark blonde and had once been long, but she’d learned to keep it short in police work—one less thing for a bad guy to grab hold of. She wore glasses, but only for reading, and she pushed them up on her nose as Kyle walked over and took the seat across from her.
She’d been interviewing guests and staff at an out of the way table in the restaurant she had chosen strategically for its window view of the pool below. She wanted to gauge the reactions, subtle or obvious, of people who sat across from her and could see where the death had taken place. A lot could be learned from how some averted their gaze, or how hard they tried not to. Normally the restaurant would be serving breakfast, but Dylan had told the twins Austin and Dallas, who had both worked at Pride Lodge since their days of filling in for summer work, to offer people a continental breakfast in the great room. Now in their mid-twenties, their youth was less a novelty than the fact they were identical twins, providing ornamentation as much as table service.
“Please, have a seat,” she said to Kyle, motioning to the chair opposite her at the small table for two. She did not stand or offer her hand. “And you would be?”
“I’m not sure who I would be,” Kyle said dryly, “but I am Kyle Callahan.”
She smiled so slightly Kyle wasn’t sure she had.
“Not the best view,” he said, nodding at the window and the pool below. He had brought his camera with him and set it on the table. “It’s only been an hour and a half since they took poor Teddy away. Death by shove? Assisted falling?”
“Well, I’m not convinced there’s a lot going on here. A man drinks too much near an empty pool . . .”
“It wasn’t an accident,” he said, and he motioned for Dallas, who had been standing near the entry trying to eavesdrop. “Could I get some coffee?” And to Sikorsky, “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Then he’ll be free to leave the room,” she said, tapping her ear to indicate the young man had been listening in.
Dallas scurried away to fetch Kyle’s coffee. Kyle wanted to get a good look at this detective, scan her, so to speak, and see what conclusions he might draw, but she wouldn’t look down or away. He quickly experienced her unnerving habit of looking directly at him. He assumed she did this with everyone and that it was some kind of interrogation technique meant to unsettle the people she spoke to.
“Mr. Callahan,” she said, “why are you so sure this wasn’t an accident? Everyone else I’ve spoken to, including some guests whom you would think didn’t know things this personal, has told me he was a drinker. A lush.”
“An alcoholic. ‘Lush’ belongs in the lyrics of a song, not as something to call another person. Teddy was a good man, and he had turned his life around this past year. Well, six months, actually, that’s how long he’d been sober. He went in and out of Alcoholics Anonymous for a few months before that.”
Linda was not unkind. On the other hand, she was too world-wise and experienced to let emotion and attachment influence her critical thinking.
“People relapse, Mr. Callahan,” she said as gently as possible. Clearly this man had been friends with the dead man, and she did consider it an accident at this point, having discovered neither evidence nor motive to think otherwise.
Dallas came gliding up with Kyle’s coffee, ending their conversation just long enough for Kyle to nod his thanks and wait for Dallas to head away. When the young man tried to take up his position by the door, Kyle waved at him to keep going, completely out of the restaurant.
“Teddy didn’t relapse,” he said, leaning in as if Dallas might still be able to hear them. “I know he didn’t. We spoke every couple of weeks. He called me just a few days ago very disturbed, saying he was leaving Pride Lodge.”
“Maybe he was upset about breaking up with—” and she quickly referenced the notes
She’d been interviewing guests and staff at an out of the way table in the restaurant she had chosen strategically for its window view of the pool below. She wanted to gauge the reactions, subtle or obvious, of people who sat across from her and could see where the death had taken place. A lot could be learned from how some averted their gaze, or how hard they tried not to. Normally the restaurant would be serving breakfast, but Dylan had told the twins Austin and Dallas, who had both worked at Pride Lodge since their days of filling in for summer work, to offer people a continental breakfast in the great room. Now in their mid-twenties, their youth was less a novelty than the fact they were identical twins, providing ornamentation as much as table service.
“Please, have a seat,” she said to Kyle, motioning to the chair opposite her at the small table for two. She did not stand or offer her hand. “And you would be?”
“I’m not sure who I would be,” Kyle said dryly, “but I am Kyle Callahan.”
She smiled so slightly Kyle wasn’t sure she had.
“Not the best view,” he said, nodding at the window and the pool below. He had brought his camera with him and set it on the table. “It’s only been an hour and a half since they took poor Teddy away. Death by shove? Assisted falling?”
“Well, I’m not convinced there’s a lot going on here. A man drinks too much near an empty pool . . .”
“It wasn’t an accident,” he said, and he motioned for Dallas, who had been standing near the entry trying to eavesdrop. “Could I get some coffee?” And to Sikorsky, “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Then he’ll be free to leave the room,” she said, tapping her ear to indicate the young man had been listening in.
Dallas scurried away to fetch Kyle’s coffee. Kyle wanted to get a good look at this detective, scan her, so to speak, and see what conclusions he might draw, but she wouldn’t look down or away. He quickly experienced her unnerving habit of looking directly at him. He assumed she did this with everyone and that it was some kind of interrogation technique meant to unsettle the people she spoke to.
“Mr. Callahan,” she said, “why are you so sure this wasn’t an accident? Everyone else I’ve spoken to, including some guests whom you would think didn’t know things this personal, has told me he was a drinker. A lush.”
“An alcoholic. ‘Lush’ belongs in the lyrics of a song, not as something to call another person. Teddy was a good man, and he had turned his life around this past year. Well, six months, actually, that’s how long he’d been sober. He went in and out of Alcoholics Anonymous for a few months before that.”
Linda was not unkind. On the other hand, she was too world-wise and experienced to let emotion and attachment influence her critical thinking.
“People relapse, Mr. Callahan,” she said as gently as possible. Clearly this man had been friends with the dead man, and she did consider it an accident at this point, having discovered neither evidence nor motive to think otherwise.
Dallas came gliding up with Kyle’s coffee, ending their conversation just long enough for Kyle to nod his thanks and wait for Dallas to head away. When the young man tried to take up his position by the door, Kyle waved at him to keep going, completely out of the restaurant.
“Teddy didn’t relapse,” he said, leaning in as if Dallas might still be able to hear them. “I know he didn’t. We spoke every couple of weeks. He called me just a few days ago very disturbed, saying he was leaving Pride Lodge.”
“Maybe he was upset about breaking up with—” and she quickly referenced the notes
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