Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_02 Read Online Free PDF

my call. I looked upstairs, then downstairs. When I went into the kitchen, I knew something bad had happened. Our kitchen had been vandalized. I ran outside. The playhouse door was open. I found my wife’s body there, on the floor. I knelt and tried to lift her and then I knew she was dead. There was blood everywhere. I didn’t see a weapon.
    “It was such a shock, I ran outside. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I wanted to go for help. I got in my car and drove to my aunt’s vacationcabin. I have tried to be helpful to the police. I know of no reason why anyone would murder my wife. I ask anyone who has any information to please report to the police or to my lawyer, Desmond Marino.”
    Marino declined to answer further questions, saying his client was doing everything possible to help the authorities.
    Police Captain J. T. Walsh said the investigation was continuing.
    Funeral arrangements for Mrs. Matthews are pending.
    I put down the paper and dug my Sony Walkman out of my gym bag. I turned it on, found a Nashville news station. It came as no surprise a few minutes later when the announcer said that Fair Haven police had arrested Craig Matthews late Sunday evening. They had charged him with murder in the death of his wife.
    I reached for my cellular phone, then paused. I had a decision to make.
    What was I going to tell Margaret?
    More important than that, what—if any—action was I prepared to take?
    I was not surprised at the arrest.
    But an arrest didn’t mean Craig Matthews was guilty.
    I found it intriguing, to say the least, that Craig received two phone calls at the bookstore where the caller promptly hung up.
    Aaah, so what, the pro-police view would demand. Who said those phone calls occurred?
    Craig Matthews.
    But when the clerk answered, there was a message for Craig to pick up the fruit basket and bring it home.
    Sure, the police could respond. Mrs. Matthews called. The lack of a basket could simply have been a mistake at the deli. Or perhaps Patty Kay thought she’d ordered the basket and hadn’t. There could be lots of explanations. The fact that the store had no record of an order was no proof that the phone call to the bookstore was part of an elaborate plan to frame Matthews.
    Because either Craig Matthews was guilty of his wife’s murder or he’d been cleverly lured to the death scene.
    To me, the strongest argument for Craig’s innocence was the Johnny-on-the-spot phone call that brought the authorities to the site just after Craig arrived home.
    It wouldn’t impress the police.
    Police everywhere receive a lot of phone tips. The calls can be accurate as hell, but the callers are not necessarily involved in the crimes they report. Many anonymous tipsters are semi-good citizens. They want to see justice done, but they definitely don’t want to get involved.
    A simple scenario could account for that phone tip: A neighbor observed Craig’s arrival at the house, perhaps heard a noisy quarrel, and called.
    A variation on that theme could account for the call even if Craig’s story was true: A neighbor came to the house before Craig arrived, found Patty Kay’s body, then scurried off to call the police but avoid involvement.
    So the phone tip could have occurred whether Craig was guilty or innocent.
    But clearly the phone tip could have been part of a clever plan to frame Craig.
    I made my decision.
    When I called Margaret, I didn’t tell her not to worry. She wasn’t a fool. But I promised to help Craig.
    I changed from my holiday slacks and cotton top to a crimson linen suit with a jewel-necked jacket and a pleatedskirt, a crisp white blouse, and matching red pumps. As a fashion writer I once knew would have trilled, “Faux pearl earrings and necklace completed the ensemble.” If I do say so myself, I looked elegant and absolutely trustworthy. It took me five more minutes to pack, then I was on the road to Fair Haven and traveling fast.
    At the outskirts of Fair Haven, I stopped at