The Keeper Read Online Free PDF
Author: John Lescroart
regular night, except with me going down to pick up Warren. My brother. Half brother. He was coming up from L.A. for the holiday.”
“What did you have for dinner?”
“What does that matter?”
“I’m not sure it does,” Glitsky said, “but when I was at Missing Persons, the lieutenant said there was blood in the kitchen. I just wonder if your wife was cutting something you were going to be eating.”
“I don’t remember that. I don’t think it happened before I left. I saw the blood when I got back, of course, and left it where it was. It wasn’t like a flood of it. A few drops on the counter by the sink, a couple more on the floor. I don’t think the blood means anything. We had spaghetti and salad, so she might have been slicing tomatoes or bread and cut herself by accident.”
“And she didn’t wipe it up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe one of the kids started crying. In which case, she would have dropped everything and come running.”
Glitsky noted the change of tone, the first negative thing about Katie that he’d heard out of Hal, namely that she might be a little fanatical about her duties as a mother. Maybe this was part of why she’d been seeing Frannie Hardy.
“Okay,” Glitsky said. “Let’s leave the blood. Tell me about the kids. Two, right?”
“Will and Ellen. What about them?”
“They must have been asleep when Katie went missing.”
“That’s my assumption. We put them down early when we can. Our goal is seven o’clock, so we can get a little time as adults. Wednesday, they were both in bed when I left, and still sleeping when we got back.”
“Where are they now?”
“At the house. My stepmother, Ruth, is staying with them. Warren’s here, too. They’re holding down the fort.”
Glitsky sat back and watched the city roll by for a few blocks. The sun was low in the sky in front of them, but the day remained cold, clear, and windless as they made their way across Arguello and down into the Avenues. “So you left for the airport when?” he asked.
“Seven-thirty or so. The Homicide cops don’t know why I left so early for an eight-fifty pickup, but hey, the day before Thanksgiving, I thought I’d be late, even leaving when I did.”
“And then what?”
“Then I picked up Warren—”
“Before that. Did you park at the airport and wait?”
“No. When I saw there wasn’t any traffic, I checked my cell for flight information and found out it would be another hour before he got in—”
“You could have done that before you left.”
“Right. I know that. Should have, in fact. But I didn’t. I didn’t think of it. To tell you the truth, I was looking forward to getting out of the house and having some company around to lighten things up. Katie and I had a lot we weren’t talking about. Anyway, when I realized Warren was going to be late, I stopped by the Hungry Hunter down in South City and had a beer and watched ESPN.”
“Did you talk to anybody?”
“I sat at the bar and ordered from the bartender. I paid cash, and I’m not a regular. We didn’t have any conversation. He might remember me, but I don’t know why he would. The place was jumping. I was one guy out of a barful. Even if he could ID me positively, there’s most of an hour unaccounted for. I realize that as alibis go, this one isn’t much, but that’s what I did.”
Glitsky looked across at Hal. It occurred to him that, if anything, the weakness of the alibi spoke to its plausibility. If Hal were going to construct a story, he would have made sure the bartender remembered him. He would have established the time of his arrival at the bar. He would have made it seem impossible that he could have killed his wife. And he hadn’t done any of those things. “So,” Glitsky said, “then you picked up your brother?”
“That’s the whole story, Lieutenant.”
“Abe,” Glitsky said. “I’m not a cop, and I’m on your side, remember. Okay, so then you get home. When you drive
“What did you have for dinner?”
“What does that matter?”
“I’m not sure it does,” Glitsky said, “but when I was at Missing Persons, the lieutenant said there was blood in the kitchen. I just wonder if your wife was cutting something you were going to be eating.”
“I don’t remember that. I don’t think it happened before I left. I saw the blood when I got back, of course, and left it where it was. It wasn’t like a flood of it. A few drops on the counter by the sink, a couple more on the floor. I don’t think the blood means anything. We had spaghetti and salad, so she might have been slicing tomatoes or bread and cut herself by accident.”
“And she didn’t wipe it up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe one of the kids started crying. In which case, she would have dropped everything and come running.”
Glitsky noted the change of tone, the first negative thing about Katie that he’d heard out of Hal, namely that she might be a little fanatical about her duties as a mother. Maybe this was part of why she’d been seeing Frannie Hardy.
“Okay,” Glitsky said. “Let’s leave the blood. Tell me about the kids. Two, right?”
“Will and Ellen. What about them?”
“They must have been asleep when Katie went missing.”
“That’s my assumption. We put them down early when we can. Our goal is seven o’clock, so we can get a little time as adults. Wednesday, they were both in bed when I left, and still sleeping when we got back.”
“Where are they now?”
“At the house. My stepmother, Ruth, is staying with them. Warren’s here, too. They’re holding down the fort.”
Glitsky sat back and watched the city roll by for a few blocks. The sun was low in the sky in front of them, but the day remained cold, clear, and windless as they made their way across Arguello and down into the Avenues. “So you left for the airport when?” he asked.
“Seven-thirty or so. The Homicide cops don’t know why I left so early for an eight-fifty pickup, but hey, the day before Thanksgiving, I thought I’d be late, even leaving when I did.”
“And then what?”
“Then I picked up Warren—”
“Before that. Did you park at the airport and wait?”
“No. When I saw there wasn’t any traffic, I checked my cell for flight information and found out it would be another hour before he got in—”
“You could have done that before you left.”
“Right. I know that. Should have, in fact. But I didn’t. I didn’t think of it. To tell you the truth, I was looking forward to getting out of the house and having some company around to lighten things up. Katie and I had a lot we weren’t talking about. Anyway, when I realized Warren was going to be late, I stopped by the Hungry Hunter down in South City and had a beer and watched ESPN.”
“Did you talk to anybody?”
“I sat at the bar and ordered from the bartender. I paid cash, and I’m not a regular. We didn’t have any conversation. He might remember me, but I don’t know why he would. The place was jumping. I was one guy out of a barful. Even if he could ID me positively, there’s most of an hour unaccounted for. I realize that as alibis go, this one isn’t much, but that’s what I did.”
Glitsky looked across at Hal. It occurred to him that, if anything, the weakness of the alibi spoke to its plausibility. If Hal were going to construct a story, he would have made sure the bartender remembered him. He would have established the time of his arrival at the bar. He would have made it seem impossible that he could have killed his wife. And he hadn’t done any of those things. “So,” Glitsky said, “then you picked up your brother?”
“That’s the whole story, Lieutenant.”
“Abe,” Glitsky said. “I’m not a cop, and I’m on your side, remember. Okay, so then you get home. When you drive
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