Malarkey Read Online Free PDF Page A

He led me
back up the slope to the front entrance. By the time we reached the
door, the square white ambulance was jouncing down the lane
toward the cottage. I wondered if I ought to have my hearing
tested.
    "Poor devils," Kennedy murmured as the driver set the
brake and the doors opened.
    "Why so?"
    "They'll have to wait, won't they, while I send for the boys
from Dublin."
    I made tea for the paramedics, and Kennedy called his
equivalent of the CID. I wondered how Criminal Investigation
Department translated into Irish.
    The crisp air outside temporarily revived me. Barbara Stein
was still waiting in the kitchen. She kept asking me questions, and I
kept temporizing. Perhaps the medics read her suppressed hostility-
-the air was charged with it—for they took their mugs outside with
mumbled thanks.
    I sat down at the table.
    Barbara declined another cup of tea. "Why won't you tell me
what's going on? Did that block of a policeman know who it
was?"
    "It's your man Wheeler," Kennedy said from the doorway.
"Dead as a mackerel and laid out on the floor of the potting shed." He
didn't mention the paint. "When did you last see him alive, Mrs.
Stein?" He was watching her intently.
    She turned the color of Devon cream, the freckles standing
out in bold relief. Her mouth opened and closed. I thought she was
going to faint and half-stood to catch her if she fell over.
    Kennedy took a notebook and pen from his breast pocket.
He pulled the chair opposite Barbara's and sat with his back to the
front door. He repeated his question.
    "I...uh, Saturday, I guess. Sunday was Easter. That's right.
The staff were on holiday. Alex and I drove down to Wexford Sunday,
to the Boltons', and stayed overnight." She gulped. "S-slade said he'd
check the answering machine for us. We were expecting a big order.
But he was taking Monday off. He'd scheduled one of those stupid
role-playing games for the Bank Holiday—"
    Kennedy raised his pen and his eyebrows. He had been
taking rapid shorthand notes.
    "Was that..." An odd expression crossed Barbara's face.
Relief?
    The pen hovered.
    She went on in a cooler voice, "When Slade didn't show up
yesterday I was annoyed, but I had to drive Alex to the airport. What
with one thing and another, that took most of the afternoon. I called
Slade's girlfriend, Grace Flynn, this morning. She hadn't seen him
since Sunday evening."
    "Had she expected to see him?"
    Barbara wrinkled her nose. "Slade's games were for boys
only." She deepened her voice. "Men's business."
    "And you didn't like that?"
    She shrugged. "He was about twelve emotionally. I found his
obsessions tiresome, but he was an efficient manager and a genius
with software. If he wanted to run around Stanyon Woods with a
bunch of teenagers..." She hesitated. "I suppose he quarreled with
one of them."
    "Why do you say that?"
    "Isn't it obvious? One of them must have killed him."
    "Killed him," Kennedy mused. "I wonder why you say
that."
    She sat up, eyes wide. "But you said—"
    "There's no evidence of foul play, Mrs. Stein, apart from the
attempt to conceal the body. He may have died of natural
causes."
    Barbara stuck out her jaw. "He was only thirty. People that
young don't just pop off."
    "Barbara, my dear," said my father from the doorway. "How
thoughtful of you to call. It's a grand place, just the thing for a
decrepit scholar." He looked at Kennedy.
    I cleared my throat. "Sergeant Joseph Kennedy, Dad."
    Kennedy had risen.
    My father held out his hand. "I'm George Dailey. I do
apologize, sergeant. It's all my fault, as Lark will tell you."
    Barbara and Kennedy gaped at him.
    I said, "It wasn't the security alarm, Dad. I disabled it in time.
It's something else. Will you sit down?"
    His hand fell, and he frowned at me.
    "There's a stone shed attached to the cottage," I began. "You
gave me the keys. I went outside for a moment and saw that the door
of the shed was open a crack. When I looked in, I found the body of a
man lying on the floor. He was dead."
    Dad