Read Online Vultures at Twilight by Charles Atkins - Free Book Online Page B

his face, or what remained of it after three days in the Nillewaug river, the flesh ripped away in places, one eye puckered and closed, the other a hollow socket from where some animal – fish, raccoon, crow? – had dined.
    Nothing made sense, but connections had emerged. It was now clear that the human finger found at McElroy’s auction had been Philip’s. They’d taken a print from the severed digit; it matched.
    One day later and Tolliver still had to fight back waves of nausea. Who did this? Had Philip suffered? The coroner had assured him that the finger had been severed after he was dead. But why? And why plant it in an auction where any one of a hundred dealers could have discovered it? Nothing made sense.
    â€˜Tolliver?’ Officer Kevin Simpson opened the door. ‘You can come in.’
    The small town irony was that Tolliver and the heavyset and balding Kevin had grown up together, classmates at different ends of the academic spectrum. Where Tolliver was second in the class, Kevin, with his even nature and dogged determination, had struggled to graduate.
    Already in the small, windowless interview room was Detective Mattie Perez with the state’s Major Crime Squad. Kevin made the introductions, and Tolliver felt the intensity of the detective’s dark brown eyes as they shook hands. She was a squarely built early-forties woman with tightly curled black hair shot through with silver. She wore no makeup and her boxy navy suit and button-down oxford gave her a masculine feel. As soon as Tolliver sat, her questions began.
    â€˜Mr Jacobs, while you are not officially a suspect, you may have an attorney present.’
    â€˜I understand,’ said Tolliver, noting the digital recorder on the table. ‘I also understand that if I choose not to answer specific questions, that’s within my rights.’
    â€˜Of course,’ she replied, keeping eye contact. ‘If you could start by telling me the nature of your relationship with Mr Conroy?’
    â€˜He was my husband.’ The word was still new, after years of being partners and significant others .
    â€˜I see. Now when did you last see your husband?’
    He didn’t hesitate. ‘Last Friday.’
    â€˜You’re certain of that?’
    â€˜He didn’t come home, or at least I don’t think he did.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t you know?’
    â€˜Generally, yes. But there was an auction that night and he had been out looking at an estate and hadn’t come home. So rather than wait and miss the preview, I went to the auction myself.’
    â€˜The one where the finger was found?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And if that finger belonged to your husband,’ she continued, ‘then I think it’s safe to say he did not make it home, but in fact, was already dead.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Tolliver dully. ‘That must be right.’ He felt the room swim as memories of Philip – his first and only love – flooded his brain.
    Kevin Simpson’s pale blue eyes looked at his old classmate. ‘You all right, man?’
    â€˜A little dizzy.’
    â€˜I’ll get you some water,’ Kevin said and left him alone with Detective Perez.
    She eyed him coldly and silently jotted down questions.
    As soon as Kevin returned with a cup of water, she proceeded.
    â€˜The Friday of the auction . . . You’re sure you saw him that day?’
    â€˜We had breakfast together.’
    â€˜That would make it October the first?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Forgive me for sounding confused, but today’s the sixth. Didn’t you wonder what had become of your husband, who had gone to look at an estate?’
    â€˜Of course.’ He looked down at his hands.
    â€˜Well?’ she prodded. ‘Where did you think he was?’
    â€˜I wasn’t sure.’ Tears welled; he didn’t want to cry in front of this woman. He hated that stereotype of the