File M for Murder Read Online Free PDF

fumes coming off her I figured she was already pickled, and her slurred speech confirmed it.
    “C’mon, Rowf, wanna ask you ’bout sump’n.” She swayed toward him, and Johnston grimaced. “When’s Connor gonna get here? Said he would be here. But he’s not here.”
    “How the heck should I know when he’s going to turn up, Magda? You know what he’s like. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down. I think you could use a rest.” He tried to pry her fingers from his arm without success. “All right then.” He shrugged. “Drinks are in the kitchen. Down the hall and to the right. Help yourselves.” He flapped his free arm as Magda dragged him away, asking once more about Connor.
    “Who is she?” Laura asked as we headed for the door.
    “I think she’s his wife, or maybe his ex-wife,” I said. “Iheard something about them not long ago through the campus grapevine, but I can’t remember precisely what it was.” Privately I wondered why she was so interested in Connor, but I dismissed the thought as we wandered down the hall.
    We found three people in the kitchen. They were involved in an animated discussion of modern musical theater, from what I could discern.
    “Lloyd Webber’s a prime example of bubble gum for the masses.” The speaker, a gaunt young man who had to be at least six-eight, poked the chest of a shorter, husky, bearded man maybe six inches in front of him. A smiling brunette shook her head as she watched the two men. “How can you stand there and defend him as a gifted composer? I mean, come on, dude, seriously? Lloyd Webber?”
    “Come on, Nathan,
seriously
, Elton John?” The other man, about Laura’s age, mimicked the tones of his opponent. He was about six feet tall, I estimated. “It’s freaking musical theater, you jackass. Who the heck expects Strindberg or Ibsen when they go to a musical?” He turned away and caught sight of Laura. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
    Nathan wasn’t done, it seemed, because he tapped the other man on the shoulder. “Sir Elton is a genius.” His opponent paid no attention and stepped closer to Laura and me.
    “Let it go, Nathan. Frank’s lost interest,” the young woman said in bored tones. “Let’s grab something to eat.” They moved toward the door into the hall.
    “Jade’s right. Go away,” Frank said, his eyes fixed on Laura. He extended a hand. “You must be Laura Harris. Glad to meet you. Frank Salisbury. I teach set design.” His pleasant baritone had a regional twang, Alabama or perhaps Georgia, I thought.
    Laura took his hand and offered an impish smile. “Hi, Frank. Nice to meet you.” She gestured toward me with her head. “This is my dad, Charlie Harris.”
    “How do you do, sir?” Frank offered me his hand now, and I shook it, liking the firm grasp. “I’ve seen you around campus, haven’t I?”
    “Yes, I’m the archivist and rare book librarian,” I said. “I’ve seen you around, too.”
    Frank was polite enough to look at me while I talked, but his eyes shifted back to Laura the moment I fell silent. I suppressed a smile.
    “Can I get you something to drink?” Frank said. “There’s wine, beer, soft drinks, bottled water.”
    “I’ll have a glass of white wine,” Laura said, her eyes sparkling. I recognized the signs. Frank was like most of the young men Laura dated through high school and college: an inch or so taller than she, on the husky side, with dark hair and eyes and a full beard. His teeth gleamed as he grinned at Laura.
    “Coming right up,” Frank said as he turned away. Then, apparently remembering his manners, he turned back. “How about you, Mr. Harris?”
    “Charlie, please. And I’ll take a glass of red, thanks.”
    “Charlie it is, then.” Frank went to the counter and pulled a bottle of white wine from a cooler, filled a wineglass, and handed it to Laura with a graceful flourish. Then he found the red wine on the counter and presented me with a goblet of it, sans flourish.