Coming Unclued Read Online Free PDF

drinker. He worries what could happen if I perhaps have a glass too many, though even Evan couldn’t have come up with this one.
    “No. I haven’t told him. Julie’s on her way though. She’ll know what to do.”
    Heather made a little grimace. Just a small one. Not enough to damage any collagen. She and Julie weren’t especially fond of each other. Julie thought Heather was shallow and “lacked warmth”. Heather was more circumspect about her feelings for Julie, but she tended to be somewhat terse when Julie was around.
    “You need to get in touch with people. You’re going to need help.”
    “Maybe not. Maybe once all those cops are finished there’ll be a very straightforward answer. They might already have the killer.”
    There was a knock on the door and Julie popped her head in. She gave us a bright smile. “Hey.”
    I ran over and gave her a hug. Heather was an excellent neighbor, but Julie was my good, true friend.
    “Hi Heather.” And then to me. “This is going to be fine. What do we know so far?”
    “Just what I told you.”
    “You didn’t tell me enough. How was he killed?”
    “Stabbed.”
    “With what?”
    “I don’t know — a knife? What do people get stabbed with?”
    “Where’s the knife?” asked Julie.
    I hadn’t even thought about that. There hadn’t been a knife sticking out of him when I turned him over. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything.”
    Julie sank down on Heather’s chenille couch and gestured for me to do the same. She glanced at Heather’s little Christmas tree, decorated all in silver, grimaced slightly and turned her focus to me. Julie and I met at a playgroup when our kids were both two. She immediately intrigued me. Rather than hovering over her daughter Alice, which was the way things were done at this playgroup, she was reading a Margaret Atwood novel and drinking coffee. When Alice whacked another girl over the head with a car, Julie didn’t go into a long discourse about how Alice should use her words and not her hands. “No hitting,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “Any more hitting and we’re going home. And say you’re sorry.” And she went back to reading Cat’s Eye . We’d bonded over our shared love of books and movies and big band music, and Evan and Alice become the best of friends as well.
    Julie adjusted herself on the couch, trying to get comfortable. Heather’s furniture was more about form than function. “You wouldn’t have any coffee made, would you?” she asked Heather.
    “I’ll make some.”
    “Don’t go to any trouble.”
    “No. You’re right. I should make coffee.” Heather hopped up and headed into the kitchen.
    Julie rolled her eyes and squirmed a little. “This couch. Who designed it? The Marquis de Sade?” She put her hand on my arm. “So what’s the plan? What are we going to do? Have you called Evan?”
    “No I haven’t called Evan. What is the obsession with calling Evan? I don’t want him hanging around, worrying about me. You know what he’s like.”
    “Maybe we should go over to your place and see what’s happening.” Two vertical furrows suddenly appeared between Julie’s brows. “Do they know your history?”
    “My history?”
    She wasn’t going to cut me any slack. “Yes your history. Your history of blackouts.”
    “I’d hardly call it a history. A couple of incidents.”
    Julie was glaring at me, clearly not pleased with my answer.
    “It hasn’t come up,” I said. “Though I have a feeling it might.”
    Heather came in carrying what looked like a plate of gingersnaps. She saw me glance at them. “The coffee’s dripping. These are all I have. I don’t know how good they are, but at least they’re organic.”
    “Thank God for that,” said Julie, who didn’t really believe in the powers of good nutrition.
    “Not for me,” I said. “I’m hungry but I’m too shaken.” I put my hand on my stomach. “And bloated.”
    “It’s the carbs,” said Heather. “I’ve