His Partner's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

yards were generally well cared for but standard issue. Most of
these were single family homes, owner occupied, not rentals. Bikes with pink
tassels on the handlebars lay on their sides in driveways. Gardening was
carried out in traditional flower beds mulched with bark, edging lawns that
varied from the Porters' velvet green to the shaggy, brown-spotted grass
surrounding the corner house. The Porters, John was willing to bet, wouldn't
like those fluffy dandelion heads. Or the neighborhood eyesore that sat out in
front of the same house, a rusting junker resting on blocks instead of wheels.
Nonetheless, even at that house, a tricycle listed half off the driveway, and
in the backyard a swing set shared pride of place with a barbecue grill. The
lawn got mowed, just not often enough. Ordinary people.
    A neighborhood like this wouldn't have crack houses or
marijuana-growing operations in the spare bedroom. Nor did these houses suggest
real wealth. The cops would get called here when a mountain bike was stolen out
of an open garage. Teenagers committed the few break-ins. Maybe a car prowl
from time to time. Serious burglaries would be few and far between. Murder?
Never.
    So why was there a dead man in Stuart's den? Why had two
people broken in, and why had one of them been killed? A quarrel mid-crime was
the obvious answer, but then again, why Natalie's house? Why hadn't two
burglars carried the obviously expensive electronic equipment out before they
risked taking the time to check out the upstairs? Had they parked right in the
driveway, a truck backed up to receive stolen goods?
    Or were they after something else? Something small?
    What? he wondered in frustration. He'd have to ask Natalie
whether Stuart had any collections that might be valuable. Coins? Stamps? Hell,
he'd collected enough junk to have lucked out and hit on something worth
taking. Or did Natalie have jewelry? She hadn't said, and John thought she
would have. He remembered seeing her at the Policeman's Ball, drop-dead
gorgeous in a simple green velvet sheath, but the only jewelry he could picture
were sparkly earrings. Diamond, maybe, but tiny, not ones worth killing over.
    Figure out why murderer and victim were in this house and
not the neighbor's, and he could as good as snap those handcuffs on.
Unfortunately, the why was the true mystery here. Murders happened all the time,
even in Port Dare. Just not this kind.
    He sighed. Better find out what the neighborhood canvass had
turned up. Too bad the Porters hadn't seen anything. According to Natalie, they
were the only near neighbors who were stay-at-homes and nosy to boot.
    Geoff shook his head when John tracked him down a block
away.
    "Nada. Zip. Nobody was home. Not even latchkey
kids."
    "Why am I not surprised?" John rocked on his heels
and looked back. Meadow Drive curved, and this was the last house from which
anyone could have seen Natalie's. "You get everybody?"
    "A few haven't come home yet." Geoff glanced down
at his notebook. "Four. No, three. The place down there is for sale, and
empty right now."
    "What about the houses behind hers?"
    "I sent Jackson. But what are the odds?"
    Nada. Zip. Of course. But they had to try.
    "Looks like the coroner is here. Shall we go hear what
she thinks?"
    Elected in this rural county, Dr. Jennifer Koltes was a
pathologist at St. Mary's, serving in addition as part-time public servant.
Hereabouts they didn't need a full-time coroner yet. John was counting on it
staying that way.
    A tall skinny redhead, Dr. Koltes was in her mid-thirties,
married to a cardiologist. Currently, she was pregnant, easily six or seven
months along. Maybe John was old-fashioned—okay, he undoubtedly was—but the
sight of a pregnant woman checking the body temp of a corpse with a smashed
skull struck him as jarring.
    Hearing their arrival, she glanced up with a pleasant smile
also at odds with the scene. "Detectives. Haven't seen either of you for a
whole day or two."
    The last body had been