Death Comes eCalling Read Online Free PDF Page A

first came out over whether or not she used corporal punishment. Surely that must have died down quickly, though, right?”
    Tommy shrugged.
    His lack of response was getting to me. Did he remember that blasted poem after all these years? Was his silence geared at tempting me to say more? He might be a good policeman after all. “Tom, I—”
    “Call me Tommy.”
    “Tommy, I’ll understand if you can’t answer this, but is there any chance Mrs. Kravett’s death wasn’t simply a heart attack?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Could she have been murdered?”
    “Nope. It was a heart attack, all right. Had a weak heart. Shoulda quit teaching long ago.” He stared at the first email as he spoke. “This line here says, ‘You think no one knows you’re guilty.’ You got anything to feel guilty about? ‘Sides the poem, I mean.”
    “I’m a mother. I feel guilty by definition.”
    “Pardon?” He studied my eyes.
    “Do you have kids, Tommy?”
    “Got two teenage boys.”
    “Don’t you worry that something you’re doing too much or too little of is going to warp them for life?”
    “Can’t say as I ever worried about that.”
    “Well, ask your wife. I’m sure she’ll know what I mean.”
    He lowered his gaze. “Can’t. My wife died last year.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” How awful! She must have been only about my age. Her children were left without their mother. At least his sons were older than twelve. “Lemme take these for evidence.” He picked up my letter from Mrs. Kravett, too.
    “Could I have… Please be sure to return the letter to me.”
    He nodded, stood up, and slipped his cap back onto the groove in his hair. “Call the station next time another of these here threats arrive. Be sure ‘n’ ask for me.”
    “Do you have any advice for ways I can keep from getting more of them?”
    He shrugged and said, “You could turn off your computer. Course, I don’t suppose you’d get any emails that way.”
    “Can you trace my computer email? See where these are coming from?”
    He shook his head and chuckled. “On our budget? For two nasty messages? We’re not exactly talkin’ a matter of national security here. You s’pose they’re from your ex?”
    “I don’t have an ex. My husband and I are still happily married. He just happens to be overseas.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    That “uh-huh” of his was as annoying as a hangnail.
    “He’s in Manila on business. He…makes envelopes.”
    “Uh-huh. Well. Great seeing you again, Moll. Let me know if I can be of any assistance again.”
    Again. As if he’d actually done something. None the less, it was nice of Sergeant Newton to come all the way out to my home, and I thanked him sincerely as he left.
    I fetched my children who, so far, were unaware of my current troubles, though that wouldn’t last. Five minutes at home proved sufficient time for them to get into a fight. I told them if they wanted to pick on someone to throw rocks at the rabbits in our gardens. That horrified them into temporary silence, and I set out to drown my sorrows in a sea of lime Jell-O.
    Thomas Wolfe was wrong. You can go home again, provided you don’t want to. All of this trauma was giving me the same feeling of claustrophobia I’d lived with during my teen years.
    The doorbell rang. It was Steve Wilkins, plus Lauren and Rachel. Steve was a large person. With his pale complexion and white-blond hair, he looked a bit like a polar bear. Though I’d liked him from the moment we’d met, he was stingy with his laughter and often wore a furrowed brow. At the moment, he looked frazzled. Lauren smiled at me as she stood beside him, but their body English hinted at some marital discord.
    As soon as the children had run off to play, Steve said, “Lauren already filled me in about your unwanted correspondence. Do you have any idea what this could be about?”
    I shook my head. “I hope it’s just some sort of joke someone from our class is pulling.”
    “Lauren and