Half Past Mourning Read Online Free PDF

one of these days.”
    Nina studied the small trophy, then put it on the coffee table in front of her. “You said you had something of mine? Did I leave something in the car? I haven’t noticed anything missing.”
    Hesitating a fraction of a second, Peter Shayne reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I guess you’d be the most likely person. I don’t know who I’d give it to except you.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket, slipped the flap open, and took a card from it. “You’ll recognize it, of course.”
    Nina stared a long time at the small rectangle he handed to her. She swallowed hard, her eyes filming over as she looked up at him. “It’s...Danny’s. His driver’s license.” Nina touched the crease that marred one corner. “How…where…where did you find it?”
    “In the car,” he answered. The stiff professor image vanished as a boyish grin lit his face. “I was fooling around with the car, looking it over inside and out when I got home. I noticed the liner in the trunk had pulled loose. That stuff from the factory was pretty bad about doing that, and I wanted to replace it. I was messing around with it, trying to see how much trouble it was going to be to take it out and if I could do it myself, when I found a perfectly straight slit in one side, up near the driver’s side corner. When I poked a finger inside, I found the license. I guess I hadn’t put much stock in what you said, about knowing that the car was Danny’s. When I found that license, I realized you were right. It was your husband’s car.” Peter hooked a long finger inside the envelope again and pulled out a small pocket knife. “I’d guess this is what made the cut in the liner. Is it his, too?”
    With dreadful certainty Nina took the red-and-silver knife from Peter. She knew what she’d find even before she held it up to catch the evening sun. “See the engraving there at the tip of the handle?” She pointed to a minute set of marks in the metal. “Those are Danny’s initials. You can’t read it without a magnifying glass, but it’s DSW for Daniel Stuart Wilson. I gave him that knife for his birthday two weeks before our wedding.” Nina bit hard on her lower lip to keep back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. “Those are Danny’s, the knife and the license, but...” She pushed away a tear that wanted to form. “But how did they get inside the lining of the trunk? Could Danny have put them there? And if he did, why? Why would he do something so bizarre?”
    In the silence, the brush of oleander leaves against the window seemed loud. An evening breeze rose in the waning moments of the day, stirring the limbs to peck at the casement and glass.
    At last Peter broke the stillness. “I don’t have any idea, Nina.” His voice was low, almost apologetic. “I wish I could answer that.”
    She looked away from the objects in her limp hand. “There isn’t any answer. No more answer to that than to any of the questions about Danny Wilson and what happened that beautiful June day almost two years ago.”
    Peter’s hand touched hers. His eyes, softer now, the grey of a summer morning, forced her attention. “No answers for you then, Nina, but now you have something you’ve never had before. You have his license, his pocket knife, and then there’s the car. That’s enough for a fresh start.” He paused, a hesitant quality to his voice, then went on. “And there’s help here, if you’ll accept it. I like puzzles and untangling knots. If another pair of hands, a fresh set of eyes, one more brain turning over the facts will help, I’ll contribute time and effort to finding some trace of Danny Wilson.” A half-smile pulled at his lips. “I have a vested interest, you know. I want to know how that T-Bird got to me.”
    Nina looked into his steady grey eyes. “Could you do anything that hasn’t been done before?” In spite of herself she felt some stir of hope in her heart. “Do you see