ILL-TIMED ENTANGLEMENTS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

obvious motive so he may not be inclined to dig too much deeper…” Kate trailed off, not quite sure how to end the sentence without unduly frightening the elderly woman.
    But Betty was made of sterner stuff than that. “So maybe we should be doing a little digging ourselves,” she said, just as the doorbell rang.
    The woman who entered the apartment was Betty’s polar opposite.
    In contrast to Betty’s crisp linen slacks and pale green short-sleeved sweater, the woman she introduced as her friend, Frieda McIntosh, wore a bright red but shapeless house dress. Frieda was a couple inches taller than petite Betty and was almost as round as she was tall. Her long steel gray hair was jammed into a hasty knot on the back of her head.
    “Have a seat, my dear,” Betty said. “Would you like some tea? I was about to have another cup.”
    “Tea would be great.” Frieda plopped down on an armchair. “I guess it’s too early for something stronger.” She looked longingly at the wooden cabinet in Betty’s dining area, that contained a small selection of liquor for guests.
    Betty headed for the kitchen. “Help yourself, dear.”
    Frieda hesitated, then shook her head. “Best I keep my wits about me, in case that handsome detective has more questions.”
    “So Detective Lindstrom’s been to see you,” Kate said.
    “Yes. He just left my apartment a few minutes ago, and I’ll tell you, I did
not
like the direction some of his questions were leaning. It sounded like he thought Betty was the killer, so I told him Betty Franklin wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Frieda nodded her head sharply, as if her opinion should definitively settle the issue.
    “Thank you, Frieda.” Betty handed her friend a cup of tea, and then settled down on the settee between the two armchairs.
    “So tell me everything. What did the detective say? Did he fingerprint you, read you your rights?” Frieda asked, excitement in her voice.
    Betty glanced quickly in Kate’s direction. “We were about to go over what we know about Doris and the other members of the writers’ group,” she said, ignoring her friend’s questions.
    Kate took her cue from Betty. “Mrs. McIntosh, do you know if Doris had any enemies?”
    “I’m Frieda, honey. Mrs. McIntosh was my mother-in-law and I never did like the old battle-axe. But to answer your question, I’m not sure Doris had anything
but
enemies. She was a pain in the caboose, always going on about how this person or that person had done her wrong.
    “And she was what we called a C.T. in my day, a you-know-what teaser, or at least she would’ve been if she wasn’t a wrinkled up old prune, and most of the men around here weren’t impotent.”
    At Kate’s surprised expression, Frieda laughed. “I know I’m a bit over the top sometimes. Decided awhile ago that I didn’t have enough time left on this planet to waste any of it mincing words, so I tell it like it is. Most folks, by the time they get to be my age, don’t care much what others think anymore. I certainly don’t.”
    “In what way was Doris a C.T.?” Kate asked, trying to hide a smile.
    “She used to flirt all the time with the men, even the married ones. She even flirted with Henry, and
nobody
can stand him. She told me one time that a couple of the widowers had actually asked her out. No accountin’ for taste! But she turned ’em down flat.
    “She flirted with our maintenance man, Joe, as well. And he’s gotta be at least forty years younger than her. Bet she wouldn’t have turned him down. He’s a hunk.”
    Betty got up to fetch a pen and pad of paper from her den. She handed them to Kate, who started taking notes. Then Betty headed for the kitchen to make lunch. She knew her friend was just getting warmed up.
    An hour and a half later, Frieda had polished off two sandwiches, most of the plate of cookies Betty had produced, and three cups of tea. And they now had all the latest dirt on the members of the writers’ group, along with