The Drowning Pool Read Online Free PDF Page A

the next evening.”
    “By herself?”
    “Yes. She and Martin don’t seem to spend much time together.”
    “Unusual for newlyweds, isn’t it?”
    “Not if you know Joan and Martin. He belongs to a lot of organizations and things, claims it’s important for business. Mostly men’s groups. And Joan’s quite independent. Mostly keeps to herself. In fact, before that evening, I never realized she was the nosy type. They’re very different people, she and Martin, but then they do say opposites attract, don’t they?”
    “Actually, I’ve always thought that like people have a greater tendency to come together,” he responded. “But that may just be the cynical eye of a policeman.”
    Bert returned and he rose to his feet.
    “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. McNeill. We may have to call on you again.”
    She let out a deep sigh. “I understand.”
    Outside the apartment, Gardner turned to St. Croix. “Did you find anything?”
    “Except for a lot of expensive clothes that we couldn’t afford on a cop’s salary, no, not one damn thing.”
    “And her story? I know you were listening; what did you think of it?”
    “You’re the one who’s supposed to have all the answers so why ask me?” She began walking away from him. He moved quickly to catch up with her.
    “A man keels over at a concert performance. The conductor calls for a doctor who finds the man has died of a massive coronary. From the balcony, a little, old lady shouts out: ‘Give him some chicken soup!’ The exasperated doctor says: ‘Madam, the man is dead.’ The old lady calls back, ‘so what can it hurt?’”
    Bert shook her head. “Is that supposed to be funny? What does it have to do with our case?”
    “People think differently. Sometimes, the way they think isn’t logical. Take Ms. McNeill for instance. She doesn’t appear to be taking her boyfriend’s death hard. Yet she claims she loved him. It almost seems as if she knew about what happened before we told her.”
    “You got nothing there,” Bert said, “just conjecture.”
    Gardner felt St. Croix’s quick anger, the way he’d have felt a box cutter blade. “Don’t suppose you’d care to talk about what’s really bothering you?”
    Bert narrowed her hard, electric eyes. “I don’t follow you.”
    “Look, we can’t work this way. I’m not trying to force the issue. It’s just that when cops aren’t working as a team, it can be dangerous.”
    “Maybe I just don’t trust small town cops.”
    “If you really feel that way then why did you come out here to work? Why didn’t you stay in New York City? I know you had a good record there.”
    “Let it alone,” Bert said.
    “You hate it out here?”
    “You really don’t quit, do you?” Her eyes blazed.
    “What? You haven’t found happiness here in beautiful suburbia?”
    “I made a mistake.”
    Gardner didn’t know what to say. The shuttered eyes, the clenched jaw, the bitter tone of voice testified to St. Croix’s inaccessibility. Her secrets were her own and she would be a hard person to know.
    “It’s all changing and especially here. Plenty of middle-class people of all races are moving into the suburbs. This area is becoming more multi-cultural all the time.”
    “I didn’t like the way the captain came on to me with that bogus rap jive about how much I was going to learn from you. I’m not a novice. I don’t need training. I mean, this is a hick town police force in a place where the local industry is sweet shops. I resent the attitude of superiority. I could show all of you a thing or two. There isn’t much I haven’t seen or had to deal with.” She squared her shoulders and set her angular jaw, a handsome woman with skin the color of mocha cream and an aura of determined pride.
    Gardner didn’t doubt Bert could handle just about anything. Merely the physical size and power of the woman would intimidate most lawbreakers. Yet Gardner had the feeling she was like a time bomb, just ticking