Death of a Dapper Snowman Read Online Free PDF Page B

in his sleep?”
    “Maybe. If he was married or had a girlfriend, I’d be interviewing her right now and not you.”
    “No girlfriend. That figures. He was such a cranky loner, even fifteen years ago.”
    “That matches what I’ve been hearing. There won’t be many people to canvas.”
    “Do you have any suspects?” I fidgeted in my chair as I remembered the morning’s events. “The mail carrier seemed anxious. He was part of the reason I took off the way I did.”
    “I’ll note that on your statement.” She smirked, then made a funny noise, like she was trying to suppress something.
    “What?”
    She raised her eyebrows and waved her hand. “It’s just that the mail carrier suggested you as a prime suspect.”
    “Good grief.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s just what my reputation in this town needs.”
    “True. So, was there anything unusual about the snowman?”
    I pulled out my phone and showed her the photo I’d taken with it. “See how the face is a bit crooked? That’s a bit unusual, don’t you think?”
    “Hmm.” She frowned at the image. “What’s unusual is how good it looks. Like a professional snowman-builder made it.”
    “If such a thing existed, we’d have the case cracked wide open,” I joked.
    She consulted some notes, then asked, “Did you see any other footprints in the snow when you approached the crime scene?”
    I tried to remember what I saw, but I couldn’t recall much. “I don’t remember seeing any, but I was focused on chasing the cat.”
    “How much force did you have to apply to break apart the head?”
    I held out my hands to help me visualize it. “A fair amount. The snowman was constructed to be secure, I think. I actually had to karate chop the neck to loosen it. Pretty hard.”
    “One chop?”
    “Multiple chops.”
    “Right hand?”
    “Yes. I’m right-handed.”
    “Amateur karate chop or professional?”
    “I took some martial arts classes when I was a kid, but I’m no black belt.”
    “Did the snowman have any scent?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Did it have one of those corn cob pipes? Or a pipe of any kind?”
    We consulted the photo again. “No.”
    She kept going, asking what seemed to be the exact same questions, but worded differently. I had to admire her repetitive technique, which had two potential benefits: jogging the memory of a witness, and providing the opportunity for a suspect to slip up and contradict herself.
    As time went on, and the questions kept repeating, the horror of the situation gradually gave way to boredom.
    Finally, when we were done, I said, “I feel like a sponge that’s been squeezed dry. Is that it for questions?”
    Officer Peggy Wiggles studied me with narrowed eyes. “One more question, if you don’t mind. Who cuts your hair? Is it Rose?”
    I patted the back of my newly-short hair. “Yes! Is she your hairdresser, too?”
    “Yes. She talked me into this pixie cut. My mother hates it.” Peggy rolled her eyes.
    “Does she say you’ll never catch a man with short hair?”
    “How’d you guess? You must be a detective.”
    I laughed. “Only in my spare time.”
    She looked around, then leaned in to say softly, “Well, if you hear of any leads in this case, call me. Any time. We’ve had another round of budget cuts, and between me, Tony, and the lady who volunteers to answer the phones so she can get the first scoop on town gossip, you’re looking at the entire homicide investigation crew.”
    “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
    She thanked me and walked me out of the room. As we walked through the station, I looked around for Tony, but he wasn’t in sight.
    We got to the front door, where she thanked me and gave me one of her cards. I stepped outside into the fresh winter air, happy to be out of there, my civic duty done for the day.
    My car was several blocks away, at the vet’s clinic, but at least the snow clouds had cleared away and it was a balmy day, perfect for a walk