A Killer Closet Read Online Free PDF Page B

customers off the street. That’s when she saw Chief Andrew Iglesias standing in the doorway, shaking rain off his umbrella.
    “Chief Iglesias! What a surprise! I hope this isn’t bad news.”
    He grinned, and it lit up his face and made it even more handsome. “That’s the trouble with being a policeman. People always think I’m bad news.”
    “Every job has its drawbacks.”
    “I’m not here to arrest you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    “And why do you suppose such a thing would enter my mind?”
    The chief laughed. “Okay, maybe I deserved that slightly sarcastic remark. That person-of-interest thing…”
    “Yeah, that person-of-interest thing.” She knew she sounded acerbic.
    “You’re no longer a person of interest.”
    Irene could have collapsed in relief, but she forced herself to show no emotion.
    “At least not in the sense of the Loraine Sellers case,” he added.
    She remained silent for a few seconds before she spoke. “Am I to assume you’ve found another person of interest?”
    “I’m not at liberty to say.”
    “Then why are you here?”
    “Just to check on you.” He looked around. “Your store looks nice.”
    Irene ignored his compliment. “Check on me? Is this something like a courtesy call? A small-town thing? You check on everyone in town?”
    “I’m afraid I can’t get around to all seventy thousand people in the city limits, but I made an exception with you.”
    “I don’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.”
    For the first time the chief looked uncomfortable. “Look, I’m just trying to say I felt bad about having to call you in. I know that was upsetting to you. It would be to most people, and I guess I just wanted to apologize.”
    “No need to apologize, Chief Iglesias,” she said. “You were doing your job.”
    “Can you call me Andy? Most people do.”
    “All right, Andy, and I accept your apology.”
    Andy’s face lit up with his brilliant smile again. “In that case, I hope you’ll allow me to buy you lunch.”
    “Another act of contrition? Really, that’s not necessary.”
    “It’s not an act of contrition,” Andy said. “I just want to have lunch with you.”
    She felt a rush of pleasure, but she hesitated before she answered. “I would love to, but I have a store to run.”
    He glanced out through the large front window. “Look, it’s raining. No one’s on the streets. You can close up long enough to eat, can’t you? Don’t you have one of those little placards that says you’re gone to lunch and will be back at one, or two, or whatever?”
    She laughed. She did have one of those door signs. It had been in a cupboard in the back and had probably belonged to the previous occupant of the building. She had assumed she would never use it, since she preferred to eat in the back so she could watch the front door for any potential customers who entered—a symptom of wanting to make enough money to pay the rent. So far, she was off to a good start, she had to admit. “Okay, let’s go to lunch,” she said. She went to the cash register counter and pulled the sign from a shelf underneath and set the clock face on the front to one o’clock.
    It was still raining as they left the building, but Andy pulled her next to him and sheltered the two of them with his umbrella for the short walk to the restaurant next door.
    The Governor’s Café billed itself as the oldest restaurant in Santa Fe—a dubious claim, in Irene’s mind, since it was established in 1905. Maybe it was the oldest continuing restaurant, but The Palace Restaurant and Saloon, to name one, had stood in its location near the Palace of the Governors since the notorious Doña Maria Gertrudes Barceló, mistress of Governor Manuel Armijo, ran it when Santa Fe was still a part of Mexico. It was now an elegant, lavishly decorated upscale restaurant.
    The Governor’s Café was a diner known for its green-chile meatloaf and green-chile hamburgers, as well as desserts to die