Crunch Time Read Online Free PDF

said. You don’t have to tell them anything. You can ask for a lawyer. These things are important.”
    Tom said, “Goldy? Do you mind?”
    Yolanda shook her head. “Sure, go ahead with the recorder.” She made a point of glancing at the clock, which read five to four. “I just have to, you know, get Aunt Ferdinanda. On time, ” she added.
    Tom started the recorder and spoke into it, the usual drill of who was there, where we were, and the date. Then he pulled out his own notebook, as he distrusted technology. “We found nine beagle pups at Ernest McLeod’s house. Where did he get them, Yolanda?”
    Yolanda rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. The dogs were part of a case he was working on. A woman wanted a puppy mill closed.”
    “And how long had Ernest had these dogs?” Tom asked.
    Yolanda said, “I, uh, how long? Let me think.” She paused to compose herself. “He got them, let’s see, today’s Sunday . . . he brought them home late Friday night. He said they were important to the case,” she repeated, her voice becoming distant. “Saturday morning, before he left for the dentist, he showed me how to feed them, give them water, and clean up the room where he’d put them. He said it was important, if he was ever away, and couldn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    Tom said, “And you have no idea where he got them, or why he picked up nine of them?”
    “I don’t believe this,” I interjected, which brought another fierce look from Tom. I thought, Who needs nine puppies for an investigation? And picks them up at night? And why get nine, instead of, say, one?
    “I told you,” Yolanda said, her voice bleak, “it had something to do with one of his cases . He was helping a lady who thought there was a puppy mill in Aspen Meadow.”
    There was quiet for such a long time in the kitchen, I thought Tom and John were waiting for Yolanda to say something more. But she didn’t, and I knew better than to open my mouth again. Instead, I convinced Jake to go back outside. The meat thermometer beeped, so I brought the pork out to rest, then washed my hands and set the risen Cuban bread in the oven. I finished slicing the last of the heirloom tomatoes. Their juice filled the gutters of the cutting board.
    “Yolanda,” Tom said at length, “do you own a gun?”
    I looked up in time to see Yolanda blushing deeply. “No,” she said. “Of course not.”
    “Why of course not?” Tom pressed. “When you were living in your rental, you made a sheriff’s department report that someone was looking in your windows.”
    In the silence that followed, I urged Yolanda, “Tell him about Kris.”
    Yolanda’s voice was flat. “Kris Nielsen is my ex-boyfriend. He has a house in Flicker Ridge. Ferdinanda and I were living with him until a few weeks ago.” She exhaled. “He knows how to shoot. He told me so.”
    Tom said, “He keeps a gun?”
    Yolanda said, “Yes.”
    “You’ve seen it?”
    Yolanda nodded in despair. “He insisted on showing it to me. I think he wanted to scare me. It worked.”
    “Do you know what type of gun it was?” Tom pressed her again. “The make? The caliber? Where he keeps it?”
    “Tom,” she said, “I don’t know any of those things. I’m not even sure that it was his gun.”
    “This Kris, he’s dangerous?”
    “I’d say so. He was a very possessive boyfriend. Since we broke up, he’s been driving me nuts. Calling and hanging up, driving his Maserati past the house where we used to live. Two times, my aunt and I glimpsed someone peeking in our windows—”
    “Did you get a look at this person?”
    She shook her head. “No. But we thought it was either Kris or someone Kris had hired. He has tons of money and can afford to hire people to do . . . whatever. I filed a report a couple of weeks ago, before we moved in with Ernest. The department should have it.”
    “And did Kris drive his Maserati past Ernest’s house?”
    “Not that we saw. But the past few