Read Online The Pride Trilogy: Kyle Callahan 1-3 by Mark McNease - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark McNease
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she’d been taking from interviews—“Happy Corcoran.”
Kyle studied her a moment. “I just don’t believe Teddy would go over the deep end about Happy. He knew the odds. Teddy was fifty, Happy’s just a kid.”
“Twenty-five, I believe,” she said. “That makes him an adult. What other people think of a twenty-five-year-old being involved with a man twice his age is irrelevant. I was told by more than one person that Happy, whose real name was Happy, by the way, took a liking to Teddy Pembroke not long after he started working here, as a bar back I think.”
“Yes, a bar back.”
“It sounds more like a kid’s summer job to me, but it became a permanent one. Whether their affair was on the rocks or not, I don’t know. I do know that Happy has not been seen for three days.”
“Surely there’s no connection,” Kyle said, sounding uncertain.
“We’ll have a better idea of that when Happy shows up,” said Linda. “Until then I think we’re about through here.”
“But you haven’t asked me anything.”
“I don’t think you have much to tell me, Mr. Callahan.”
“Kyle. And I may not have much to tell you, if you consider a distress message from a dead man last night ‘nothing.’ He texted me, he was getting frantic. If that’s nothing, fine then, but I do have something to show you.”
Kyle picked up his camera, held it out for the detective to see the photographs he’d taken, and showed her the zoom-in of the martini glass.”
“And?” she said, unimpressed with the evidence. “Are you suggesting this was a murder weapon, a martini glass?
“Yes, and no. It wasn’t used to kill him, but it tells me somebody did. You see, Detective, this ‘lush’ didn’t drink martinis. I doubt he’d ever had one in his life. He was a bourbon and whiskey kind of man. Whoever pushed him into the bottom of the pool obviously didn’t think anyone would notice and threw the glass in as misdirection.”
“I’m trying to be fair here,” she said, handing him back the camera. “I’ve known alcoholics, my uncle among them, who would drink Listerine to get high if nothing else was around. I just can’t see this as anything significant. Maybe he had bourbon in a martini glass, maybe that was the only glass on hand when he took it. Did that occur to you?”
It had not occurred to him and Kyle blushed, feeling exposed. He didn’t for a moment think Teddy, a creature of habit like everyone else, would grab a martini glass when he’d been drinking from tumblers for thirty years. She was right, though; all he had were strong suspicions that would not go away as easily as this detective was dismissing them.
“I’m a detective, not a guest here,” she said, deliberately softening her tone. “You were friends with Mr. Pembroke, who by all accounts had a serious drinking problem. From the looks of things he fell off the wagon and into an empty swimming pool. I’m sorry your friend is dead, but I’ve got nothing here to say this was anything but a tragic accident.”
“I’ve told you it wasn’t.”
“That’s not how these things work,” she said, closing her notebook and making it clear she was about to finish up and leave. “Aside from his boyfriend taking off, which is likely what happened with this Happy, nothing indicates foul play. It’s a terrible, lonely way to die, although I’d guess it was instantaneous.”
Kyle had noticed throughout their conversation how nice she seemed, despite keeping a professional distance. He thought, incongruously, that he would like to meet her under different circumstance, to speak to her and photograph her.
“That’s it?” he said. “You’re just going to call it a day, case closed?”
“Yes and no,” she said, standing from the table. “I’ll be heading out now, but I won’t close the case, not yet. The medical examiner needs to determine the cause of death. If it’s anything other than from the fall . . . say, drowning in an empty
Kyle studied her a moment. “I just don’t believe Teddy would go over the deep end about Happy. He knew the odds. Teddy was fifty, Happy’s just a kid.”
“Twenty-five, I believe,” she said. “That makes him an adult. What other people think of a twenty-five-year-old being involved with a man twice his age is irrelevant. I was told by more than one person that Happy, whose real name was Happy, by the way, took a liking to Teddy Pembroke not long after he started working here, as a bar back I think.”
“Yes, a bar back.”
“It sounds more like a kid’s summer job to me, but it became a permanent one. Whether their affair was on the rocks or not, I don’t know. I do know that Happy has not been seen for three days.”
“Surely there’s no connection,” Kyle said, sounding uncertain.
“We’ll have a better idea of that when Happy shows up,” said Linda. “Until then I think we’re about through here.”
“But you haven’t asked me anything.”
“I don’t think you have much to tell me, Mr. Callahan.”
“Kyle. And I may not have much to tell you, if you consider a distress message from a dead man last night ‘nothing.’ He texted me, he was getting frantic. If that’s nothing, fine then, but I do have something to show you.”
Kyle picked up his camera, held it out for the detective to see the photographs he’d taken, and showed her the zoom-in of the martini glass.”
“And?” she said, unimpressed with the evidence. “Are you suggesting this was a murder weapon, a martini glass?
“Yes, and no. It wasn’t used to kill him, but it tells me somebody did. You see, Detective, this ‘lush’ didn’t drink martinis. I doubt he’d ever had one in his life. He was a bourbon and whiskey kind of man. Whoever pushed him into the bottom of the pool obviously didn’t think anyone would notice and threw the glass in as misdirection.”
“I’m trying to be fair here,” she said, handing him back the camera. “I’ve known alcoholics, my uncle among them, who would drink Listerine to get high if nothing else was around. I just can’t see this as anything significant. Maybe he had bourbon in a martini glass, maybe that was the only glass on hand when he took it. Did that occur to you?”
It had not occurred to him and Kyle blushed, feeling exposed. He didn’t for a moment think Teddy, a creature of habit like everyone else, would grab a martini glass when he’d been drinking from tumblers for thirty years. She was right, though; all he had were strong suspicions that would not go away as easily as this detective was dismissing them.
“I’m a detective, not a guest here,” she said, deliberately softening her tone. “You were friends with Mr. Pembroke, who by all accounts had a serious drinking problem. From the looks of things he fell off the wagon and into an empty swimming pool. I’m sorry your friend is dead, but I’ve got nothing here to say this was anything but a tragic accident.”
“I’ve told you it wasn’t.”
“That’s not how these things work,” she said, closing her notebook and making it clear she was about to finish up and leave. “Aside from his boyfriend taking off, which is likely what happened with this Happy, nothing indicates foul play. It’s a terrible, lonely way to die, although I’d guess it was instantaneous.”
Kyle had noticed throughout their conversation how nice she seemed, despite keeping a professional distance. He thought, incongruously, that he would like to meet her under different circumstance, to speak to her and photograph her.
“That’s it?” he said. “You’re just going to call it a day, case closed?”
“Yes and no,” she said, standing from the table. “I’ll be heading out now, but I won’t close the case, not yet. The medical examiner needs to determine the cause of death. If it’s anything other than from the fall . . . say, drowning in an empty
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