Keeper of the Castle: A Haunted Home Renovation Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

figured me out. “Gotcha. You’re a libber, then.”
    “Sure, that’s me, a lady libber.”
    “Huh.” There was a hint of a smile on the detective’sruddy face, but it wasn’t particularly friendly. His eyes ran over me one more time, and I lost my patience.
    “Do you have any other questions that might help you figure out what happened to poor Larry McCall? Because if not, I’d like to go.”
    “Well.
Somebody’s
got her knickers in a twist, doesn’t she?”
    “My knickers are none of your—”
    Bernardino’s eyes flickered over my shoulder, and he seemed to nod to someone behind me. “Okay, I guess that’ll do for now. Just one more question: Why didn’t you call nine-one-one right away when you found the body?”
    “I tried, but my phone didn’t work. The guys say it’s the thickness of the stones, or something, but cell phones don’t work inside the monastery.”
    “Huh. This your current address and phone number?”
    I nodded.
    “All right. You can go,
Ms.
Turner,” he said grandly.
    I headed over to where Graham had been speaking with some of the construction crew. He looked grim.
    “You okay?”
    I nodded.
    “Did you tell him about the fight between Nolan and McCall?”
    “I may have mentioned it.”
    I could see a muscle work in Graham’s jaw as he scanned the hectic scene. It was a tableau I had encountered too often in the last couple of years. It always amazed me how many people were involved in the processing of a crime scene. Especially since I suspected Marin County didn’t see a lot of such crimes. Ellis Elrich’s celebrity status no doubt also guaranteed the full-court press.
    “I think I managed to implicate just about everyone in McCall’s death, up to and including myself,” I continued. “Given how often I’ve been through this lately, you’d think I’d be better at dealing with the police. The detective was kind of an ass. As much as Annette Crawford scares me, I’m starting to pine for her.”
    Graham gave a humorless chuckle.
    “Are you worried about Nolan?”
    He nodded. “They were asking a lot of questions about him, and given how many witnesses overheard his argument with McCall . . . I don’t know. It doesn’t look good.”
    “Nolan does seem to have a temper.”
    “Yes, he does.” Graham inclined his head.
    “Still . . . do you really think he could have done it? Practically right in front of everyone? I mean, that would be pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?”
    “Anger can make people do some pretty stupid things. But I don’t know. . . . I’ve known Pete for years—your dad knows him, too. I’ve never seen him become violent. Not unless . . .”
    “Unless what?”
    “Unless he’s been drinking.”
    “Surely he wasn’t drunk this early in the morning?” Pete Nolan had seemed sober enough to me, but I hardly knew the man and hadn’t been close enough to him to detect the odor of alcohol.
    “No, not that I could tell. He got sober a couple of years ago, and as far as I know, he’s been on the wagon since. But he’s got a couple of priors, bar fights from back when he was still drinking. I hope they don’t dig those up and draw some conclusions.”
    “I hate to say it, but Detective Bernardino wouldn’t be much of a cop if he didn’t.”
    Graham’s eyes were shadowed with worry. I understood what he was feeling—the first time I’d seen a ghost was when my friend Matt stood accused of murder. Matt and I hadn’t been particularly close then, but I remembered the urge to prove his innocence and the frustration of not knowing how. The justice system can be relentless, and there’s nothing quite like having someone look at you as if you’re a killer to throw you off your game.
    “It could have been a freak accident,” I suggested. “Maybe Pete was threatening him with the bag of mortar—you know, just to scare him—and it slipped out of his hands. . . .”
    “And landed on McCall’s head?” Graham shook his head.