The Major's Wife. Anthony Whyte

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      “Well I’ll be damn,” Sharkey whistled. “The captain must have been loaded—”

      “It cost eighty thousand dollars. My husband called it… Ah, an investment. He had it shipped from Germany,” Diana said solemnly. “It’s cheaper that way.”

      “You’re sure about that, Dr. King?”

      “Yes, Vaughn loved German cars…and you may call me Diana,” she said.

      Beneath her outpouring saddened state, Sharkey could see Diana’s beauty. She appeared shaken, but the conversation had lightened her blue eyes. Her previously paled face was slowly reddened on the sides, highlighting Diana’s sharp cheekbones. Even though he was driving, Sharkey’s eyes watched Diana King’s every twitch. The psychiatrist appeared emotionally shaken. A sudden realization of the loss of a loved one death could cause that. Sharkey thought as his reasoning took over. Feeling like he had done enough to crack her veneer, Sharkey decided to back off.

      “We’ll get to know each other better in the morning,” the seasoned detective said.

      Staring at the widow, Sharkey couldn’t stop thinking about how King wound up getting killed. Was his grieving spouse upfront in her involvement? It was tough to tell. Questions were swirling in his head, and Sharkey drove while filing them away for future use. Diana’s soft but persuasive tone interrupted his thoughts.

      “I am right over there, detective. Thank you,” Diana said, pointing to the quiet mid-sized house.

      Sharkey pulled the car to a stop, and said, “I have some more questions for you, Dr. King, but I’ll hold them until I see you in the morning. Goodnight…”

      “Goodnight, detective. And thanks for everything.”

      She got out of the car. Sharkey watched his partner hurried from the car and walked Diana to her doorsteps. She was acting weak, but her athletically petite figure seemed strong as ever. Sharkey noted while lighting up a cigarette. After spending a few minutes smoking, the detective was still lost in his thoughts when McAlister came strolling back to the car.

      “That woman is the worse of her kind,” Sharkey said when McAlister got back inside the car.

      McAlister smiled at him and then asked, “Just what would lead you to say something like that, Sharkey?”

      “Jim Bob, she’s a beautiful woman with a brain,” Sharkey answered with a smirk.

      “And just how does that make her the worse of her kind?”

      “Her awareness of it, Jim Bob. She knows her mere presence will cause the bravest man to retreat into hiding.”

      “Okay, I’ll agree, she’s a beautiful woman, and all.”

      “They’re the most dangerous—”

      “Meaning what?”

      “She could be involved in her husband’s murder…”

      “She’s the surviving spouse, and except for the killer, she was the last person to him alive.”

      “My thinking exactly, young buck, and she’s got a nice pair of legs,” Sharkey smiled.

      “Don’t mean she could’ve pulled the trigger and ran back up to her office…”

      “A beautiful woman like that doesn’t have to pull the trigger herself. She can use all that sexiness the good Lord gave her to get some poor sucker to pull it for her.”

      “I could see your theory…”

      “Yes, but…? You sound unsure.”

      “Not that she can’t do it, but she doesn’t strike me as the type of person to be doing that type of thing,” McAlister countered.

      “You may be right. But remember, I’m going to concede Diana never pull the trigger herself. But a smart woman with all that beauty…”

      “Okay, so your theory, after talking to her about the history of the monument outside her office building, and the little dribble about her job, is that she had her husband killed?”

      “I don’t suppose you were listening when she said that it was her idea to make that so-called pit stop…? Maybe you were too busy being enamored by her good looks?”

      “I heard what she was saying, Sharkey. She also distinctly reported that he was supposed to get the file from her office the day before. And the husband should’ve done it. Either way, a stop was made, and a man’s dead.”

      “That’s right. And whoever called it walked away alive, Jim Bob. And we’ve got to find out why.”

      “I get it, Sharkey, spouses, are in general, the number one suspect in murder cases like this. But I still insist she doesn’t fit the type—”

      “What type is that?”

      “A conniving woman who wants to have her husband killed.”

      “Maybe…”

      “That’s for the forensic psychologist to decide, but I don’t think so,” McAlister said.

      “Maybe she’s not guilty of pulling the trigger, but I’m certainly not willing to go as far as ruling out her involvement. She’s, for now, our prime suspect,” Sharkey said, contemplating. “For all I know, she could be beautiful and more dangerous than a loaded shotgun in a baby’s hand. Still, you’re right. She deserves a second shot.”

      Sharkey drove while the detectives went through the information gathered. A black army officer was gunned down, and his killer vanished, erasing all traces of evidence. The crime scene experts investigated, and so far, found no clues. There were no spent shells left at the crime scene. Sharkey drove back to the area where the murder occurred. The detectives got out of the car and walked the perimeter of the crime scene.

      Standing in front of a professional office building, Sharkey glanced up at the 4th-floor window. Then both detectives went upstairs to the location of Diana’s office. Pausing, they visually scoured the inside the lobby of the fourth floor. Two other offices were there. McAlister noted the name of the doctor and attorney sharing the same level. Walking to Diana’s office door, Sharkey stared at the prominent display of her name.

      Dr. Diana P. King. Clinical Psychiatry.

      They walked inside a midsize office that opened up to a short corridor that led to two interview rooms. The detectives strolled from the waiting area to the window. Looking out, and glancing down Main Street, Sharkey made a mental note of the distance. Sharkey walked to Dr. King’s desk and stopped to examine it in great lengths. Sharkey picked up the case file lying on the counter. Then he walked back to the door.

      “Jim Bob, there’s one thing we know for sure. This killer did it too cleanly. Our killer had to be an expert.”

      “I agree. And with the rainfall washing all trace evidence away, it sure seems like whoever did it couldn’t have chosen a better evening for a murder.”

      “Leads directly to me asking this СКАЧАТЬ