The Grilling Season Read Online Free PDF Page A

drilled into mine. His icy, threatening tone was all too familiar. “Why won’t you
tell
me why you’re
here?
No Arch? No van? This certainly smacks of the ex-wife
spying
on the ex-husband’s girlfriend.”
    “I just—”
    At that moment the familiar wheeze of my van sounded its way up Jacobean. Tom parked behind his own sedan and within three seconds was striding across Suz’s lawn from the acute angle of the neighbor’s yard. Smart man. Any visual diversion from the ditch would buy time. With one of his large, pawlike hands, Tom motioned for me to move away from John Richard. I inched backward until my feet bumped the edge of the porch. Tom’s green eyes never wavered from John Richard as he approached the porch where we stood.
    “What the—?” John Richard was furious. “Is this some kind of family incident? You’d better tell me what’s going on, Goldy,” he commanded.
    Take a wild guess.
But I was going to say nothing to that arrogant voice.
    Bordering the expansive front step was a fat clay pot brimming with vivid red geraniums and dusty-blue ageratum. I had backed up beside it and now stared down at the tall red flowers, unable tomeet John Richard’s enraged gaze. “I don’t really know very much,” I murmured.
    “Hey there,” said Tom, as if we were all meeting on the golf course.
    John Richard wasn’t fooled for a moment. “You want to tell me what the
hell
you’re doing here at seven o’clock in the morning, cop? Or why Goldy just happened to be passing by?”
    Tom’s wide face stayed flat, passive, totally unreadable. He blinked and took a deep, measuring breath that pulled up his expansive chest. He regarded John Richard’s handsome face and athletic frame.
    Finally Tom said, “We seem to have a situation here.”
    “What?” cried John Richard, incredulous.
Or acting incredulous
, my skeptical inner voice immediately supplied. John Richard’s face tightened with fury—and something else. “What kind of situation?” His voice was stone-hard, but there was a crack in that stone, something rarely heard when he spoke:
fear.
“What’s the matter with you two?” He turned his wrath on me. “What, did Suz call you early this morning, Goldy? Trying to get a little girlie sympathy? Strength in numbers, right? Just like you and Marla, a whimpering duo going for the gold medal in pettiness.” He swept his scathing glance over Tom and me. “So you just rushed right out early in the morning, then called your personal police squad to back you up, right? What did Suz tell you, that we mixed it up last night?”
    “You mixed it up last night,” Tom quietly repeated.
    John Richard flung the roses down. The papermade a crinkly sound as the bouquet landed on the grass, and a bloodred petal shook free. “Well, let me tell you, both of you, this is none of your damn business, do you understand me? Suz has lots of problems you don’t even know about. It really wasn’t as bad as—”
    He was silenced by the wail of a siren. The ambulance screamed from the club entryway. I knew from all Tom had told me that unless a victim’s body has mold on it, the paramedics feel duty-bound to try to revive that victim. Still, as the ambulance shrieked to a halt, I wanted them to do their damnedest. I prayed they would be able to bring Suz back while knowing in my heart that it was no longer within the realm of possibility.
    Tom strode off the porch in the direction of the ambulance. When the paramedics were out of their vehicle, Tom pointed. The medics vaulted toward the ditch.
    “Jesus Christ,” muttered John Richard as he shoved past me. Caught off balance by the power of his push, I fell backward onto the flowerpot. I tripped off the edge of the porch and landed facedown in the dirt. When I scraped the soil off my elbows, I thought I heard a forlorn meow. I looked around but only saw John Richard. He was a preppy vision in khaki pants and burgundy shirt as he swiftly approached the area where the