Murder by the Book Read Online Free PDF Page B

run as much as anything. A personal following. One of the things we have to sell. Four-five years ago, I managed a place up the Keys. Met the doctor then. Next summer, maybe the summer after, it was a place in New Hampshire. He came there. Since then—” He shrugged.
    â€œAlone?”
    â€œThe first time his wife was with him. She died. Alone since then. He was dead when your wife found him?”
    â€œYes,” Jerry said.
    â€œWhat do you suppose he was doing out here? He didn’t fish much.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Jerry said.
    Distantly, there was the sound of a siren.
    â€œThere they come,” Grogan said. “A hell of a thing to happen.”
    This time, Jerry felt, he did not speak only of the hellish thing which had happened. Hotel managers prefer murders to occur, if they must at all, off the premises.
    â€œGet out of here!” Grogan shouted, suddenly, and unexpectedly, at the pelican. His voice was angry. When a man is filled with anger, a man has to put it some place.
    The pelican paid no attention.
    â€œStay here, Jimmy,” Grogan said. “If you see anybody starting out—any of the guests, I mean—tell them …” He paused. “Tell them the pier isn’t safe.”
    The bellman said, “Yes, sir.” There was something wrong with his voice.
    Grogan started to walk back along the pier, and Jerry went with him. When Grogan had walked twenty feet or so, he turned.
    â€œOh, Jimmy,” he said. “Don’t make it sound too permanent, huh? Tell them we’ll have the pier fixed in—oh, a couple of hours.”
    Jimmy said, “Yes, sir.”
    Pam was sitting in a corner of a sofa in the hotel lobby. The sofa was much too large for her. She was sitting as straight as one may on a deep sofa; her hands were clasped in her lap. Jerry went over and sat beside her.
    â€œI told him about the pelicans,” Pam said. “Do you suppose he—he went to watch them? And that that was—”
    â€œNo,” Jerry said. “I don’t, Pam.”
    â€œThat, if I hadn’t told him—”
    â€œNo.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “No.”
    The sirens came closer. They came up the drive from Flagler Avenue, and to the circle in front of The Coral Isles. The first one stopped, but another continued. They were, Jerry thought, policemen in love with the sound of their own sirens.
    Two state troopers came in, revolvers heavy at their sides; their expressions those of men ready for anything, and rather expecting riots. They stood inside and looked around the lobby, the right hand of each close to a holstered gun.
    â€œMy,” Pam North said, “what fierce policemen. You’d think somebody’d passed a stop sign.”
    Jerry was relieved. The implacable troopers had changed the subject.
    The second siren stopped its wailing. After a few seconds a tall and youngish man, wearing a blue suit, came in and looked around the lobby. He was very tanned; he had light hair in sharp contrast to the mahogany of his face. He went to the desk. Paul Grogan had been behind the desk; now he came around it and joined the man in the blue suit and walked with him to where the Norths waited.
    â€œThis is Deputy Sheriff Jefferson,” Grogan said. “This is Mr. and Mrs. North, sheriff.”
    â€œDeputy,” Jefferson said. “Mr. North. Ma’am.”
    He turned. Two other men, also in civilian clothes, had come through the entrance. One of them had a camera. Deputy Sheriff Jefferson nodded at them, and indicated with his head the direction they were to take. He turned back to the Norths.
    â€œLike to talk to you after a bit,” he said. “Have a look-see first. All right?”
    â€œWe don’t—” Jerry North said.
    â€œSure you don’t,” Jefferson said. “All the same. Won’t be long.”
    â€œWe,” Pam said, “aren’t going