Coming Unclued Read Online Free PDF Page A

he asked. “I know you’ve been through it with Detective Crowley, but I’d like to hear it myself, just so I can get everything straight.”
    “There just isn’t that much to tell. I woke up — I was sleeping on the loveseat, and then Julie came over,” —
    “And Julie is?”
    “She’s my friend. She came over with a mousetrap because I saw a mouse, and then she left and the mousetrap went off and I went in my bedroom, and there he was. I mean I’m just — I’m shocked. You can imagine.”
    “And you don’t remember Mr. Potter coming to your apartment?”
    “I do not. I’m quite surprised actually. We weren’t that friendly.”
    “Really?” asked the detective. “Why was that?”
    “Personality conflict,” I answered. The conflict being that I had a personality.
    “Had you had a fight recently?” he asked. “Something you needed to discuss? Maybe he came over so you could talk.”
    “Oh I don’t think so,” I said.
    “You had your Christmas party last night?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Did something happen at the party? Perhaps he was getting fresh?”
    Getting fresh? What decade was this guy living in? And what was he insinuating? That I stabbed Mr. Potter because he was getting fresh?
    “Look,” I said. “Detective Crowley said I should get a lawyer.”
    “That is certainly your right,” he said.
    “But do I need one?”
    “It would be advisable for you to have legal counsel.”
    Instead of a lawyer, the first person I called was Julie. She was the smartest person I knew. She’d know what to do. She was in line at the grocery story when I reached her, and remarkably calm given what I had to tell her. “I’ll be right there,” she said. “Don’t say anything.”
    A little late for that.
    The forensics team was in the kitchen with their little boxes of equipment, swabbing and bagging and casting quick, furtive looks at me. They were making me very nervous.
    “Is it all right if I go across the hall to my neighbors? She’s right over there.” I gestured in the vague direction of Heather’s condo. “I’m feeling faint. I need a change of air.”
    The detective thought for a moment. “That’s fine. But don’t go anywhere else. We need to know where to find you.”
    “Of course Officer. When my friend Julie shows up could you please tell her where I am?”
    The detective hesitated — apparently relaying messages from alleged murderers wasn’t in his job description — but he nodded. “Fine.”
    “Oh my God! What happened?” Heather gasped as she yanked open the door. She had changed her clothes since I’d first seen her that morning. She was now wearing tight fitting jeans, boots with a three inch heel and a black turtleneck that hugged her very slight curves. Her makeup was perfect. She looked like I would aspire to look if I had a date on a Saturday night. If I ever went on dates on Saturday night.
    “Come in. Oh Val, I have been so worried.” Heather grabbed me by the arm and led me to the couch. “Sit down. Take a deep breath.”
    Heather perched herself on a chair, and taking her own advice, shut her eyes and took a deep, dramatic breath. “Okay,” she said, once she was sufficiently oxygenated. “Tell me everything.”
    “My boss, Mr. Potter, the old guy…” I reconsidered for a moment. He was probably only fifteen years older than me. “The older guy. Remember how I said I slept on the loveseat?”
    Heather nodded.
    “I went in my bedroom because there was a mouse on the loose and there he was in my bed.” I was getting used to saying it. Practically came tripping off my tongue. “Dead. Stabbed to death. Mr. Potter.”
    “That’s crazy!”
    “And I have no memory of why he was even in my apartment. And I’m getting the idea that the police think I might be a suspect.”
    Heather’s eyes widened.
    “Have you called anyone? Have you told Evan?”
    Evan. How could I tell him? I have a not entirely unwarranted reputation for being an obnoxious