Birthdays of a Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

corrected. Mom had woken up and joined
the living again—if only to punish Gracie for not having a mija of her own.

 
     
     
    Chapter
9
     
     
    His day hadn’t started too well, with the milk carton slipping out
of his hand and spilling its content on the floor. Because Macintosh couldn’t
stomach the idea of coming back home to a rancid smell, he had wasted precious
time cleaning up and risked being stuck in city traffic. Before he left his
tiny apartment, he had noticed that the tray with his mail was screaming for
attention. It would be mostly bills piling up there, but he couldn’t delay this
chore much longer. God, how he missed his wife. She had kept such nuisance from
him, and sometimes she must surely have felt unappreciated. It had seemed so
insignificant then, but now he understood she had organized his whole life with
the ease of a juggler. Five years of loneliness left their mark. If she were
still alive, he would tell her every day how much he loved her and how grateful
he was for everything she did for him.
    The day didn’t get any better once he had finally arrived at Graveley
Street. All morning he was shoveling files around. Paperwork was tedious at
best but today it performed a strict alibi function. Anything to keep his
involvement in the Starbucks case to a minimum. But there was only that much
desk work he was willing to tackle, and for some strange coincidence it was
unusually quiet in the department. No new homicides, not even a measly brawl
with bodily harm, to break the monotony.
    When Harding strolled by his desk, he closed the file he had been
fiddling with.
    “Alright then,” he sighed. “What are you up to?”
    From there on, his day deteriorated even further.
     
    First he and Harding drove to Starbucks to look around the crime
scene to get a better understanding. The manager on duty was immediately
pestering them for more information. The place had acquired a morbid kind of
celebrity status, he said, and his customers wanted to be fed with coffee,
muffins and details. Macintosh realized with a twinge of annoyance that
the manager probably knew more about it than they did.
    After that, they drove around the corner to St Paul’s Hospital, only
to be told by the doctor on duty that there was no chance the victim would
regain consciousness in the foreseeable future. In fact, she might never. In
all likelihood, if she’d ever wake up, she’d have permanent brain damage. Her
injures had been too severe and, to make matters worse, she’d gone into cardiac
arrest on the way to emergency which had shut down the oxygen flow to the brain
for a dangerously long period.
    After listening to that depressing prognosis, they dropped by the
psychiatrist’s office and were told the doc couldn’t see them. He had to go
back to BYSC. Harding chose to take a route back to the station that let them
down the same street Melissa Brown lived in and two things caught their
attention. A mobile TV unit was racing around the corner at the same moment
Melissa and her mother stepped out of their building.
    Macintosh told his partner to hit the brakes and waved at the women.
They were startled at first, then recognized him. Macintosh didn’t waste any
time explaining, but indicated they should get in the backseat.
    “What’s going on?” Louise asked, while they sped off.
    “Sorry about that,” Macintosh said. “We didn’t want the press to see
you.”
    “We should have given those fucking scum-bags a ticket for speeding,”
Harding said.
    Macintosh gave him a shut-up glance and turned back to Melissa.
    “Sorry, ma’am, but my partner has an intense dislike for the press. Can
we take you somewhere?”
    “Yes!” Melissa leaned forward. “How about to my daughter?”
    Macintosh didn’t reply but looked at her apologetically, and she
leaned back again, displeased and disapproving.
    Louise was holding her daughter’s arm in a motherly grip, hand over
wrist. Don’t run away, all will be good .
    “We