The Grilling Season Read Online Free PDF Page B

Richard’s admission of a fight and a piece of his jewelry enough to warrant an arrest? Apparently so. But John Richard had brought flowers, he must have
thought
Suz was alive, or must have wanted to
believe
she was alive, or wanted to
appear
to believe she was alive.
    Tom said quietly, “You’re under arrest. I’ve just arranged for transport.” He reached in his back pocket for his handcuffs. He must have brought them, I thought, stupefied. Tom must have brought the cuffs and his badge and his weapon, when I told him where I was and what I’d seen.
    John Richard leaped forward and swung at Tom; the three neighborhood ambassadors jumped back. John Richard’s fist shot upward again. But Tom was ready for him. He grabbed John Richard’s right arm and swung it forcefully around. Cursing, John Richard fell to his knees. Tom put his otherhand into John Richard’s back and brought him easily to the ground. John Richard yelled, threatened, cursed, and reminded Tom of what he would do to him the minute he got free.
    Tom leaned over and said,
“Shut. Up.”

Chapter 4
    W ith practiced quickness, the paramedics transferred their energy from trying to revive Suz to pulling back. They authoritatively called out orders and pushed aside the bystanders. No matter: The group of people, which had now grown to five, had turned their attention from Suz and could not stop staring, fascinated, at John Richard. Handcuffed, he knelt in the street. Tom kept him there. Tom’s muscular body leaned toward John Richard. My husband spoke into my ex-husband’s ear. I could not make out what he was saying over the voices of the medics. But if the twisted look of fury on John Richard’s face was any indication, it wasn’t good news.
    Tom turned and made an announcement to the mesmerized bystanders. “Okay, you five, here’s the deal. Go stand in different driveways until we’ve stabilized this situation. Police officers will come talk to you when they arrive. Do
not
discuss this among yourselves.” He paused to make sure they understood. Two nodded; the others just stared. “All right, thank you. Go ahead, please, move away. Now.”
    As the men promptly defied Tom’s orders bydeparting in a whispering cluster, John Richard raised his angry voice, demanding to be let out of the handcuffs. The medics ignored him, as did Tom, who once again pulled the mobile unit off his belt and made a call. I heard him say the words “captain,” “video,” and “team.”
    Tom spoke again to John Richard, then helped him to his feet. The Jerk, cuffed, shook loose of Tom’s arm, then stalked angrily to the base of Suz Craig’s tar-streaked driveway. Tall and elegant even with his arms bound at an improbable angle behind him, Dr. John Richard Korman stood shifting his weight from one khaki-clad leg to the other. I thought absurdly that he looked as if he were considering poses for an art class. Above his gorgeous, chiseled face, which occasionally spasmed with rage, his blond hair was only slightly tousied from his exchange with Tom.
    I turned away, disbelieving. Was this really happening? There was a buzzing in my ears. My eyes burned. I sat down on the curb and focused on Tom.
    Tom knew what he was doing. He could switch into his take-charge mode without a hitch. He nimbly moved his beefy body around the periphery of the ditch. He gave a few more instructions to the paramedics, who plopped down listlessly on the dirt-strewn incline. He had probably told them to do nothing until the coroner arrived. Then, his face set in that intimidating expression I knew so well, Tom walked in the direction of the driveway and John Richard. I tried to remember a time when I had seen these significant men from my life standing next to each other. I failed. And this certainly wasn’t thecircumstance where I wanted to make the comparison of how the two appeared and how they acted. I looked away, up the street.
    If I was right about what Tom had told the paramedics,