Neal Rafferty New Orleans Mystery #1: The Killing Circle (A Neal Rafferty New Orleans Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Does he leave often? To buy books?”
    “No. Most of his buying is done by order forms.”
    “Do you help him with the business?”
    “I used to until Mother got sick. Then he hired help.”
    I asked her who.
    “A woman named Lucy McDermott. But she seems to have disappeared, too.”
    That bit of news excited me almost as much as looking at her, but she seemed unmoved. “Is that why your mother won't go to the police? Because she thinks your father and Lucy McDermott have gone off together?”
    The anger flooded back, the tide carrying her to the center of the room to confront me. “How dare you . . .”
    “Get off that,” I interrupted. “If I'm going to help you, I have to try everything. And I don't believe in coincidences. Now what of it? Is that the reason? Is there even a possibility?”
    She looked confused. I thought it was because I said I was going to help her, but the old man would have opted for women liking it when you get tough with them.
    “No, no possibility. He wouldn't—he couldn't,” she stammered. And then emphatically, “He wouldn't do that. I know him. And I know Lucy McDermott, too,” she added in that mysterious undertone women get when they talk about other women.
    I smiled. “Okay. What happened last Monday when he left?”
    “Nothing happened. He went to the store.”
    “How do you know he went to the store?”
    “He—of course he went to the store. He left early. He said he had work to do before the store opened.”
    “Did he mention the Fleming books to you, that he was expecting them?”
    “Yes. He was very excited about them, that he was going to handle them. He loves old books.”
    “Enough to take them?”
    Her face froze unnaturally. She shifted the weight of her body as if she were about to grab me and throw me out. Then she was still. “That's what Fleming thinks, isn't it?”
    “It's crossed his mind.”
    “It would,” she said bitterly. “My father would never steal anything.”
    “I want to take a look at the store.” She didn't look at me or say anything. “Do you have a key?”
    Without a word, she left the room. I turned to the desk. There was a single picture of a younger Catherine which hadn't captured her extreme vividness and there was a picture of three Garbers together. Mrs. Garber looked a lot better in it, but there seemed to be an underlying sadness. Maybe it was just because she wasn't smiling. Stanley Garber was smiling broadly, and while his portly looks were nothing more than mediocre, he looked like a pleasant sort of person, if that means anything.
    A few minutes later Catherine returned and handed me a key.
    “Have you been to the store since Monday?” I asked. She shook her head and said something about not wanting to leave her mother and having called there and at Lucy McDermott's apartment several times. I asked her if her mother was okay.
    “She seems to be resting well enough,” she said. I opened the door and started to leave. She stuck a hand out to touch my arm but pulled back quickly. It looked as if something was bothering her and our eyes were locked as I waited expectantly for her to say something. I waited long enough to know that something unusual had happened to me. Leaning forward, I kissed her lightly on the mouth. She didn't return it; she didn't look affronted; she didn't look surprised. She was almost as tall as I am.

5
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A Different Kind of Luck
    By the time I left the Garber house there were other things on my mind besides Fleming's books. Maybe my motives weren't the purest, but I wanted to find Stanley Garber. It just so happened that was the best way to find the books. Catherine's anger at Fleming and her defense of her father had left an impression on me, to say the least. But it was her mother's refusal to take action that seemed most significant; I couldn't get the idea unstuck from my brain that she was afraid Garber had gone off with Lucy McDermott.
    I wasted no time getting down to the French