His Partner's Wife. Janice Kay Johnson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ computer is dated.”

      “You might have had a laptop tucked away in there, a pager, an expensive calculator.” He shrugged.

      “Yes. I suppose.” Now she was the one to feel dissatisfied, but it took her a moment to analyze her unhappiness with the scenario.

      Why wouldn’t two burglars have immediately unplugged and taken the obviously expensive television and stereo equipment before exploring further? Her sewing machine was a fancy, electronic model that did everything but wash the dishes. Wouldn’t they have considered it worth taking? Besides… Now the discontent stirred anew.

      “The cat had been napping in there.”

      “What?”

      She saw that she’d startled both men.

      “It must not have just happened,” Natalie explained, thinking it through as she went. “I shut the door to my sewing room last night. When I got home today, that door had been open long enough for the cat to have taken a nap on the fabric I’d laid out in there. And Sasha wouldn’t have relaxed enough to take a nap in the open unless strangers were long gone. Which means I didn’t scare him away.”

      Geoff Baxter looked doubtful at her logic.

      John frowned thoughtfully. “The coroner hasn’t arrived yet. She’ll be able to give us a time frame.”

      “I suppose it doesn’t matter what time he was killed.”

      The two men stirred.

      “I know it does to you,” Natalie conceded. “To your investigation. But to me… Actually, I’d rather think he wasn’t still in the house when I got home. The idea that he was standing behind one of the doors, listening to me, maybe even watching…”

      John half rose to his feet, then seemed to force himself to sit back down. His face was grim.

      Natalie hunched inside the afghan. “That gives me the creeps,” she concluded simply.

      John made a gritty sound and slapped shut his notebook. “Damn it, you’re coming home with me tonight.”

      She wanted nothing more, but her pride, so important to her, insisted she protest. “I have friends I can stay with.”

      “Yeah, and I’m one of ’em.” He stood. “I’ll see if I can bail out your toothbrush and drop you at home right now.”

      “But I can drive.”

      “No.” His pointed gaze took in her knotted fists and the shiver she couldn’t hide. “You’re in shock. Mom’s with the kids. She’ll enjoy babying you.”

      Ridiculous to feel disappointed. Of course he wouldn’t stay with her. He had a murder to investigate. She knew the drill: he would probably work for twenty-four straight hours, canvassing neighbors, supervising crime scene technicians, following up on the tiniest leads. The older the trail, the less likely that a murderer would be caught, Stuart always said. Homicide cops did not drop an investigation to take the night off and pat the little woman’s shoulder.

      “I…that’s nice of you, but shouldn’t you ask your mother?” Natalie had only met Ivy McLean a handful of times, the first at Stuart’s funeral. John was divorced and his two kids lived with him. His mother must be baby-sitting tonight.

      Geoff cleared his throat. “You know Linda will give me hell if I don’t bring you home with me.”

      Natalie doubted his wife would go that far. The two women were casual friends because of their husbands, but they had so little else in common, they’d never progressed beyond the occasional invitation to dinner.

      A tiny spark of bemusement penetrated the numbness she’d wrapped around herself as snugly as the afghan. “I do have women friends who can run me a hot bath and tuck me in. Really, you don’t have to…”

      John’s hard stare silenced her. “Yes. I do. I’d rather know where you are.”

      Because she was a suspect in a murder investigation? The thought shook her. John couldn’t really believe even for a second that she would do something like that, could he?

      “Yes. All right,” she said, sounding ungracious but too discombobulated to figure out what woman friend would actually have a spare bedroom without putting a child out. She would have to explain, too, listen to exclamations of horror, perhaps endure avid curiosity. Ivy McLean was the mother of not just one son in law enforcement, but three. She would have heard it often enough before to imagine the scene without wanting the details. Natalie didn’t like the idea of putting out a near-stranger, but if she just took a hot bath and went straight to bed, she didn’t have to be much trouble.

      “What else do you need?” John asked. “Are you on any prescriptions? What about a nightgown or clothes for morning?”

      Morning would be Saturday, and she wouldn’t have to work, thank heavens.

      “My purse,” she said, explaining where she’d dropped it. “The middle drawer in my dresser has jeans, and T-shirts are in the one below that. I left a sweater draped over a chair in my bedroom. Nightgowns are in the top drawer.”

      “Underwear?”

      She could rinse out the ones she was wearing. But she’d sound so missish if she suggested that, Natalie tried to match his matter-of-fact tone. “There’s a small drawer on top next to the mirror.”

      “Good enough.” John left to go fetch her things. He and Geoff had a brief discussion she couldn’t hear at the door. A moment later, Natalie heard Geoff telling the Porters he needed to ask them a few questions.

      In the living room, they sat side by side on the couch, Mrs. Porter clutching her husband’s hand. She sat very straight, a dignified, tiny woman whose dark hair was whitening in streaks, her husband a tall, thin man whose color was none too good. Her eyes were bright, his dull. Natalie remembered guiltily that she’d heard something about bypass surgery a few months back. Had anybody in the neighborhood brought meals or even just expressed sympathy? Their kindness today made Natalie feel terrible about the way she’d shrugged off the casually mentioned news.

      Geoff’s questions were routine. Had they seen or heard anything out of the ordinary? Cars they didn’t recognize?

      Shaking her head, Mrs. Porter said, “We grocery shopped this morning, then had lunch.”

      So they did actually go out.

      “This afternoon Roger mowed the lawn while I deadheaded the roses. I don’t believe a car passed the entire while. Did you see one, dear?”

      He frowned, giving it careful thought. “No. No, I didn’t notice one.”

      “Then we lay down for a quick nap,” his wife continued. “I’d just begun thinking about putting dinner on.”

      Geoff thanked them gravely and closed his notebook. Natalie carefully folded the afghan and laid it on the arm of the chair.

      Standing, she smiled even as she felt the hot spurt of tears. “You’ve been so kind. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been home. Please, let me know if there’s СКАЧАТЬ