In the First Early Days of My Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

dream that lingered in her mind’s eye. She had work to do. The pattern for a customer’s new dress lay spread on the sewing table in her living room, still pinned to its tangerine silk, and the woman was coming tomorrow for a fitting. Noni would have finished the dress yesterday if Wendy hadn’t called. She could have begged off, saying she was too busy. But Wendy, usually carefree and casual, had sounded worried, so Noni had gone. Not that she’d been much help, she reflected. She’d intended to set Wendy’s mind at ease, but the story about the stocking had been sinister. How in the world could Evelyn’s stocking end up under Alika’s pillow? Noni couldn’t think of any but the most obvious answer.
    She gulped another Aspirin. She had to control the pain if she was going to accomplish anything today. She had to finish that dress and then start on the growing pile of mending and alterations. And she needed supplies. She glanced at the clock. The sewing shop wasn’t open yet, but she could start a list. She needed pins, orange thread, two bobbins…
    The telephone rang. Noni waited for the ring to come to a full stop, so she could pick up the receiver with no danger of bad luck. As she waited, a vague image of her brother began to form in her mind, but Alika didn’t seem like his usual self at all. There was something odd about the image, something contorted, as if he, too, was suffering.

    Felix knew his peaceful morning was too good to last. Just as he tossed the coins for the third time, he heard the telephone ring. It was his partner, Paul, alerting him to an emergency right there on Felix’s own street.
    Minutes later, Paul briefed Felix as they drove one short block down St. Catherine. “Caucasian female. Unconscious. They’re trying to revive her.” He pulled up in front of a white frame house. The street pulsed with the flashing lights of a rescue unit.
    Inquisitive neighbours had gathered on the boulevard. One lady, still in her nightgown, stood on the sidewalk, peering with blatant curiosity into the open door. Felix pushed her aside, and suddenly he recognized the white picket fence, the morning glory, the lilac bush. He ran ahead of Paul into the house.
    In the front hall, at the bottom of the stairs, two paramedics worked frantically over a small figure on the floor. A young officer crouched in the entry to the living room, watching. She recognized Felix and straightened up.
    â€œDetective Delano,” she said.
    â€œWho found her?”
    â€œThe husband. Came home and found her lying right there.” She pointed. “Says he didn’t move her.”
    Felix nodded. “What else?”
    â€œWell, it’s weird. Lady’s wearing nothing but a parka. Looks like she fell down the stairs. I don’t see how. There’s no smell of booze. Christ, she’s young. I don’t know.”
    â€œAnyone else here?” Felix asked. “Other family?”
    â€œThe husband’s sister’s here. They’re in the kitchen.”
    â€œI’ll go talk to them,” Paul said.
    Felix circled the medics, staying well out of their way as they worked. One of them pounded the woman’s bare chest with a force that threatened to shatter her rib-cage. Felix stood as close as he dared and scanned the body for signs of violence. All he could see was a thick lock of pale brown hair, matted with blood, and a sunburned cheek, incongruous against the fur of the parka hood. He looked at the face. Yes. It was Wendy Li. The girl from the garden.

    It was like one of those nightmares, those recurring dreams in which I was never prepared. In which I was lost or had lost something essential — my clothing or, worse, a puppy or an infant that was in my care.
    At first, all I could think of were the dirty dishes in the sink, the fact that I hadn’t made any pie, that we were out of coffee, and the house was full of people. What