Once a Widow Read Online Free PDF

lifted the telephone from its cradle and laid it on the shelf of the breakfast bar. He heard a metallic buzz and smiled to himself as he returned to the living room. If anyone should telephone the summer residence of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Barry this afternoon the line would be busy, indicating that someone was at home. He entered the living room, locked the front door and then carried the picnic hamper to the terrace. Karen came out wearing the brief white bathing suit. He had locked the rear door and they were descending the stairs to the beach, Richard carrying the hamper, when Karen said suddenly, “Oh, I forgot to call the dry cleaners. I want them to pick up some dresses and two of your suits.”
    “It can wait,” he said quickly, and guided her firmly down the steps. Out at the end of the dock the cabin cruiser waited, tugging gently at her moorings.
     
    Richard turned away from the vast window and moved through the house, snapping on lights as he went. In the kitchen he replaced the phone on its cradle. There had probably been no calls, he thought, but there was no point in passing up any angles. He went to the bedroom, thinking that everything was his now, this house and the big one in Cleveland, the cars, the stocks and holdings, all the money and worldly possessions of Karen. In the morning he would call the coast guard station to report his wife’s absence. Already he was rehearsing his story.
    His wife had gone for a spin in the boat, alone. He had had a headache (or something) and had stayed at home. He had not worried too much when she had not returned by dark; she was an expert in the operation of the boat and knew the lake well. No, sir, she can’t swim, had never learned. Yes, we have friends along the lake, not near here, but it is entirely possible that she may have cruised farther than she intended and had put in at one of the friend’s docks for a visit. However, if she had, I’m sure she would have phoned me. I was here, at home, all afternoon and evening, and she didn’t call. I went to bed, leaving a light burning on the end of our dock for her. This morning, when I realized that she hadn’t returned, I became worried—Oh, I forgot to tell you that last night I phoned our home in Cleveland, thinking that she might have gone there, but the servants had not seen her, or heard from her… Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. The boat was built three years ago, a Chris-Craft, thirty foot, registry number…
    In accordance with his imaginary telephone conversation Richard went to the kitchen and flicked a switch there which turned on the beacon light at the end of the dock. It wouldn’t do any harm, he thought. Someone might notice that it was turned on, maybe even a coast guard patrol boat passing by, and it would check with the story he’d give out in the morning. And he must not forget to telephone the house in Cleveland tonight. Then it would be a matter of record, the devoted husband worried about his missing wife.
    He took a hot shower, donned a pair of Bermuda shorts, made himself a tall gin and tonic and carried it back to the bedroom, where he lit a cigarette and, using the bedside phone, placed a call to the house in Cleveland. A woman answered and he knew it was Maggie, the housekeeper. “Hello, Maggie,” he said. “This is Mr. Barry. I’m a little concerned about Mrs. Barry. She isn’t there, is she?”
    “Here? Oh, no, sir.”
    He sighed, loudly enough for Maggie to hear, and said, “She went out in the cruiser alone this afternoon, and hasn’t returned. I thought she might have taken it into her head to run to Cleveland.”
    “Oh, dear,” Maggie said. “Alone, in the boat?”
    “Yes. She may have gotten lost in the darkness and anchored somewhere to wait for daylight. That’s probably what happened, but I’ll feel a lot better when she returns. I’m going to notify the coast guard, but if she shows up there call me right away, will you? Or ask her to call