Seven Ways to Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

the address. Cal calls central and tells them he’s on it, then he calls the Loft and Hue answers and passes the call to me. Cal gets to the address and luckily finds a place to park. It’s a brownstone, second floor. He’s there now, calming the woman down. Left the front unlocked. Says nobody is wise yet and the scene is clean.”
    “That’s a break. Can we keep it that way?”
    “I called Stinelli and told him we had what appears to be a homicide, that Bergman is at the scene, and we’re on the way. He’s cool with that.”
    “That’s Rick McKeown’s turf.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Stinelli will deal with Rick if it’s something we should handle. Rick loves it when we do his work for him.”
    “Yup,” Rizzo said, turning onto East 73 rd Street. “On the left, two doors off Lex.”
    It was a tree-lined street of brownstones, empty except for a man in a hooded jacket walking his dog.
    “Nice and quiet, so far.”
    “Seven-thirty,” was all Rizzo said.
    He stopped and Cody grabbed his satchel and got out while Rizzo stayed on the move, circling the block and waiting for instructions. Cody entered the narrow, three-story brownstone squeezed between two taller buildings.
    It had a cramped hallway, like most brownstones, but pale green Berber carpeting and pastel yellow walls brightened the gloomy atmosphere often found in these older buildings. Stairs on the left. Apartments on both sides of the hall. A private elevator at end of the hall. So quiet you could hear a mouse snore except for the muffled sobs coming from above.
    Cody followed the sound to the second floor and faced a small, pleasant sitting room at the end of the hallway. Cal Bergman was waiting for him, comforting a woman seated on a couch nestled between two ficus trees under a bank of soft grow lights. The hallway was dark except for a faux Tiffany lamp on an end table beside the sofa.
    The woman looked terrified, close to shock, and was clutching a bottle of spring water in one hand while Bergman held her other hand. She looked up wide-eyed and gasped as Cody reached the top of the stairs.
    Bergman quickly reassured her.
    “Mrs. Kearney, this is Captain of Detectives Cody,” he said. Cal Bergman was six feet tall, making him two inches taller than Cody, a lean blonde in his early thirties wearing a dark blue suit.
    “Mrs. Kearney,” Cody said in a soft pleasant voice as he walked over to them. “Inspector Bergman has filled me in a bit. I understood you’ve had a terrible experience here this morning.”
    Her eyes welled with tears and she began to shake. Cody squatted down in front of her, staring straight into her eyes. She was about fifty, a bit on the heavy side, dressed in slacks, a sweater and Nike sneakers. Her brown eyes were tear-streaked, her hair close cropped and turning gray. Her strong face had seen better days.
    “It’s gonna be alright,” Cody said. “Take a deep breath and swallow, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “Good. I know Cal, here, has talked to you but I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.”
    She nodded.
    “What’s your first name?”
    “Wilma,” she stammered.
    “Okay if I call you Wilma?”
    She tried a smile. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice trembling.
    “Are you married, Wilma?
    “I’m a widow. My husband worked for the Transit. He had a heart attack five years ago.”
    “And what’s your employer’s name?”
    She sucked in her breath. Veins stood out on her forehead. Her throat bobbed with sorrow.
    “Take a drink of water, it’ll help.”
    She took a sip and then the dam broke: “Raymond Handley. He’s such a nice young man, a stock broker, a very successful stock broker with Marx, Stembler and, uh…”
    “Trexler?” Bergman offered.
    “Thank you. Mister Handley is a vice president and he’s only, like, thirty-nine. He’s engaged to Linda Stembler, Mister Stembler’s daughter.” Her voice cracked, and she had to take another sip of water. “She goes to college in Boston. She comes