Lye in Wait Read Online Free PDF Page A

week, sometimes every day, and he'd never mentioned
her. Maybe she'd predeceased him. If not, I wondered whether she
knew he was dead. Of course, the police had all sorts of ways to find
out about next of kin, and they would have told her.
    Many of the smaller slips were receipts. I found a few from the
previous year for Caladia Acres, but the others had me stumped.
They were receipts for donations. Walter had given money to the
March of Dimes, Save the Children, Children's Miracle Network,
and half a dozen other charities. This inexplicable generosity both
shocked and touched me. I added up the cluster of figures in my head. The total came to over $300,000, and I doubted I'd unearthed all the receipts.
     
    The crash of breaking glass in the kitchen wrenched me to my
feet, heart pounding. I whirled, squinting into the dark. From my
vantage I could see only the faint outlines of counters, the gleam
of the white refrigerator. Something on the floor glittered. Feeling
like the girl in the slasher films you know is going to die because
she's too dumb to run when the background music sounds like
that, I moved to the doorway of the kitchen, tiptoeing as if the carpet wouldn't effectively muffle my footsteps. I must have looked
like an idiot.
    But I stopped berating myself when I heard the front door open
and then close on a muffled oath. A shadow passed outside the
kitchen window. Groping along the wall, I found the kitchen light
switch and fumbled it on. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes.
The counters were cluttered with everything from cereal and cracker
boxes to coffee mugs and empty soup cans. An explosion of glass
shards littered the yellowing linoleum floor, dull reflections in the
weak overhead light. A shiver skipped across my shoulders.
    "Police. Turn around slowly."
    My heart, already hammering away quite nicely, thank you,
took another leap in my chest. I turned to find the sandy-haired
officer from that morning standing in the doorway off the alley.
His hand hovered near the gun in his unsnapped holster.
    "Miz Reynolds?" His palm relaxed away from his hip, and I
found myself able to breathe again.
    "I just saw him go by the kitchen window. Maybe you can still
catch him," I said.
    His voice took on an edge. "What're you doing in here?"
     
    I gestured toward the floor lamp. "Saw the light on. Doesn't
matter. But someone was in here with me, and they just hightailed
it out the front way. C'mon!" I moved toward the entryway, motioning for him to follow. He didn't budge.
    "Who was it?" he asked.
    "I don't know. I didn't see them."
    "Then how do you know someone was here?"
    "Oh, for heaven's sake! I was sitting at that table and heard a
crash in the kitchen. When I went to look, the front door opened
and closed. Then you sneaked up behind me, which, I can tell you,
did nothing for my nerves."
    "So this was just before I came in."
    "Yes! You saw me looking in the kitchen, didn't you?"
    "Sure. Standing there in the doorway looking around. Tell me
again why you're here?"
    "I saw the light was on and came over to turn it off."
    "Ah. And perhaps you couldn't find the switch and thought the
instruction manual might be among Mr. Hanover's papers." He
pointed to the card table and then to me. I looked down and realized I still clutched several receipts.
    I dropped them on the table like they were on fire. "What are
you doing here, Officer? Isn't your shift over by now?"
    "We're shorthanded-I'm working a double. And we got a call
that someone was moving around in the house."
    "See! Someone was here."
    "Yes. Someone was" Sarcasm laced his smile. I counted myself
lucky he hadn't shot me out of youthful enthusiasm.
    "Listen, Officer-what's your name, anyway?"
    "Owens"
     
    "Well, Officer Owens, I saw the light and came over. It's not
like I broke in. The back door was open when I got here. And Walter didn't talk about family much, so I don't know who'll be taking care of the funeral