Cold As Ice by Julie Mulhern

Author:Julie Mulhern [Mulhern, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2017-09-06T20:59:27+00:00

twelve

Mother and I stepped into the elevator. I pushed “L” and she pulled on her gloves. “Lorna’s holding up well.”

Aside from the looming inconvenience of a funeral, Lorna seemed entirely unaffected. “Yes. She is.” My voice was dry.

Mother smoothed the wrinkles from her gloves. “This must be so trying for her.”

So trying that she’d spent her morning sampling tea.

“I’m sure she’ll get over it.” By five o’clock tonight.

The doors slid open and we entered the lobby.

Outside, the sun had given way to clouds and there were new flakes falling from the sky. “If you wait here, I’ll pull the car up.”

Ever gracious, Mother nodded her assent. “Thank you.”

The cold stole my breath. I gathered my coat more tightly around me and hurried to the car.

Behind my Triumph, someone was warming up their Audi coupe. The car was a lovely shade—somewhere between aquamarine and silver. Despite the freezing temperature, I slowed my steps and peeked in the passenger’s window. A gray interior or black?

My steps stopped altogether, as if my feet were frozen to the pavement.

Jenny was inside the car and she was slumped over the steering wheel.

I tapped on the window.

She didn’t respond.

I tapped harder. Difficult to do wearing leather gloves. I slammed the heel of my hand against the window.

Nothing.

I tried the door.

Locked.

Dammit. What was wrong with her? I hurried around the back of the coupe and yanked on the driver-side door handle.

The door opened smoothly

“Jenny. Are you all right?”

She didn’t move.

I poked her shoulder.

She didn’t move.

She couldn’t be dead. There was no blood. No knife protruding from her chest. No tell-tale scent of almonds (I leaned forward and sniffed).

“Jenny!” The birds in the oaks towering above me squawked and took flight. Jenny remained silent and still.

No! Not again. It could not be. My knees turned to jelly and clutched the roof of the car. This wasn’t happening. Not to someone I liked. She’d taken something and fallen asleep.

“Jenny!” The circling birds cawed their displeasure. To hell with poking. I shook her shoulder. Hard.

Nothing. Nothing except for a dreadful slackness. I released her and she slumped to the side. Jenny was dead.

Nausea wrung my stomach like a wet washcloth. I turned away from my dead friend. Lapsang Souchong and two Milano cookies (Lorna insisted I eat the second cookie) discolored the snow. They were joined by lunch and breakfast. My stomach heaved until there was nothing left but bile.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

I fumbled in my purse and closed my gloved fingers around a handkerchief. I wiped my mouth. And my eyes. And my cheeks. The tears kept coming, almost painful in the cold.

With the soiled hanky crumpled in my fist, I stumbled toward the lobby.

Jimmy opened the door. “Miss Ellison?”

Mother’s brows rose. “Don’t tell me. That ridiculous car of yours won’t start.”

“Not exactly.” I swallowed the bile lurking at the back of my throat. “The car is fine. Jimmy, we need to call the police.” I rattled off Anarchy’s number.

Jimmy dialed.

“What’s happened?” Mother demanded. “What’s wrong?”

Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe Jenny had just passed out.

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