The Chocolate Mouse Trap Read Online Free PDF Page B

Martin Schrader. I took a good look at him. He had a very high forehead, but once his hair began it was thick and silvery gray. He was—well, a handsome man. And he looked reliable. He’d be a perfect mouthpiece for a major company like Schrader Laboratories.
    He spoke gravely. “Ms. TenHuis, I’d like to ask a favor. If I came down to Warner Pier, could we have dinner or lunch?”
    I must have looked startled, because he went on hastily. “I need to talk to some of Julie’s friends. Someone her own age.”
    “Actually, Mr. Schrader, I only met Julie a few times. Our friendship was mainly by e-mail.”
    “That’s what I’m interested in.” He leaned close. “The police think someone broke in to rob Julie. But I don’t understand why the main thing he took was her computer.”

Chapter 4
    I guess I stared at him a minute. A computer didn’t seem to me to be that odd a thing to steal, but this wasn’t the place to discuss it. I moved back to his original question.
    “I’ll be happy to talk to you about Julie anytime, Mr. Schrader. It isn’t necessary to take me out to lunch.”
    “Oh, but I’d like to.” Was his smile wolfish? I decided it wasn’t; it looked pleasant, just slightly harassed.
    I smiled back insincerely. “I promised my finesse—I mean, my fiancé! I promised my fiancé that I’d cook dinner for him tonight. But any other time would be fine. Let me give you a card.”
    The mention of a fiancé didn’t seem to disturb Martin Schrader. I gave him a TenHuis Chocolade card. By then some other guest was hovering, wanting his attention. I turned away and rejoined the Food Group. They all looked curious, so I explained that Mrs. Schrader had known my grandfather.
    I didn’t mention her son’s invitation. In fact, as I thought his remarks over, I became determined to make sure any meeting with Martin Schrader occurred in my office. Not that he had indicated any interest in a social relationship. He’d given the impression of an uncle who was worried about his niece’s death. But why had he singled me out to talk to? I didn’t know Julie any better than any of the other members of the Food Group did. In fact, I thought Margaret had known her better than the rest of us. They had lived in the same town, and Julie had apparently dropped in on her often.
    But Martin Schrader’s request probably didn’t mean anything. He was upset over Julie’s murder and casting around for any scrap of information. At least, I had convinced myself of that by the time we had collected our coats and were standing under the porte cochere waiting for the cars to be brought around.
    “Ms. McKinney?” The voice came from behind me. It was barely audible, but I heard its distinctive squeak. I turned to find Brad Schrader standing there.
    “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I wanted to apologize for my uncle.”
    “Apologize?” Had Martin Schrader decided he didn’t want to talk to me after all and sent Brad with his excuses?
    Brad went on. “I saw him taking you aside. I hope he wasn’t . . . objectionable.”
    “He was very polite, Brad. Why did you think he’d been objectionable?”
    Brad looked down and shuffled his feet. “Well, sometimes he . . .” Then he looked up, took a deep breath, and spoke in a rush. “He’s the family lech, see. More or less a dirty old man. I wouldn’t want him to annoy you.”
    I had an impulse to laugh, but I managed to contain it. “Don’t worry, Brad. I can handle middle-aged leches.” I shook hands with him and told him again how sorry I was about Julie.
    “I’ll miss her e-mails,” I said. “She was always sending something interesting.”
    Brad nodded. “She was on several lists,” he said. “I guess that’s where she got all that joke stuff.”
    “I didn’t always have time to read the things she sent,” I said. “But we probably all have a big file of her past messages. I can always go back and read them again.”
    That idea seemed to make