A Friend Indeed by Elka Ray

Author:Elka Ray [Ray, Elka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing

CHAPTER 27

DANA: THIRTEEN DAYS AFTER STAN’S DEATH

It’s Halloween. Zoe and Chad went to school in costumes, Zoe as a fairy and Chad as a debonair devil. Owen refused to dress up. It was optional.

At just past eight thirty, I’m in the studio with Daisy, who came in early to complete a late order. She obviously went out last night and looks ragged, eyes red and puffy. She’s in her late twenties, young enough to be out every other night but old enough to feel a hangover.

I’m stringing white roses onto wire when the front doorbell rings. Gloria gets it. Moments later, she taps on the studio’s door. “Dana? It’s the police.” She sounds apologetic.

I try to hide my dismay. “Thanks, Gloria. Please tell them I’ll join them in Stan’s study.”

I set down my clippers and issue Daisy instructions, then go to meet the detectives.

When I enter Stan’s study, they’re both facing away, eyeing the Van Dortmund. I doubt they realize its worth. How could they? It looks like an ugly print of three gargantuan gum balls. Ugh. I curse myself for not putting it away. Now if I sell it, they might notice its absence.

I already found the contact info of the art dealer who wanted to buy it last year. He was listed in Stan’s day planner. While Stan loved all things techy and had a slew of devices that never stopped dinging, he jotted down appointments and notes in a big black leather binder.

I’ve pored through it repeatedly, searching for clues of his affair, but the entries are cryptic and seem work related: Call R re Caruthers. Pay web guys.

This book rests on his desk, beside where his laptop would usually sit. The cops took his electronics last week and have yet to return them.

“Detectives?” I say. They both turn. “Please, sit.” I motion toward the coffee table. “Would you like a drink? Coffee? Water?”

They both decline.

The skin around Detective Bellows’s nostrils looks red and raw. He must have a cold or bad allergies. Detective Shergold has a black scarf wrapped high beneath her chin. Perhaps she’s poorly too, or trying to ward off her partner’s affliction.

I expect them to take a seat. Instead, they both stay standing. I do too. There’s an uncomfortable pause. I look at my feet. I’m wearing knee-high boots. The leather’s black and shiny. I’m glad I wore them. They’re what Jo calls kick-assy.

All things considered, I feel surprisingly decent. Last night, I took a Valium and actually slept. I don’t like to do it, especially now, when the boys need watching. Yet it was worth it. If I’d had another sleepless night, I’d be in trouble with the police here. Some beauty sleep didn’t hurt my appearance either. Detective Bellows, for one, has noticed.

He shifts from foot to foot. As usual, both detectives are dressed in dark, dull clothes. They both look somber. “Mrs. McFarlane,” says Detective Bellows, “I’m afraid we have bad news.”

I wait. Maybe they found the hitchhiker in Santa Fe and realized it wasn’t Stanley.

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