Original Tales of Terror and the Macabre by the World's Greatest Horror Writers by Del Howison & Jeff Gelb

Author:Del Howison & Jeff Gelb [Howison, Del; Gelb, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781625672902
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2017-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

The homicide detective finished his scan of the back of the limousine, then yielded the scene to his CSI colleagues for a closer examination of the body and the weapon used. He walked back half a block to a sector car, one of several units on the scene along with a fire-department paramedic bus. The rain had nearly stopped but the street was still awash. Uniforms had the traffic moving again, slowly. One of the cops touched the bill of his cap and opened the rear door of the sector car. The detective took off his hat, shook rain from the brim, and got in.

“Mrs. Whitaker? I’m Lieutenant Peterson.”

Lisa Whitaker looked up with grief-emptied eyes. Her hands were twisted tightly together in her lap. She had chewed most of her lipstick from her lower lip. Her lips parted as if she were going to speak, but then she simply shook her head in an anguished way.

“I know how rough this has been for you, Mrs. Whitaker.”

“Rough,” she repeated dryly.

“I’ll be as brief as I can.”

“Thank … you.”

“Your chauffeur, Mr. Stokes, said he didn’t hear or see anything. What can you tell me, Mrs. Whitaker?”

“Well … he shot himself. It was … so quick. And so awful. He had just handed me … this.” Lisa showed Peterson the bracelet crumpled in her hands. “It’s platinum. The stones are rubies.”

“Birthday? Anniversary?”

“No.” Words came slowly. “No particular reason for a gift.” She smiled tautly. “Except George liked giving them.” Lisa drew a great shuddering breath. “When I … looked up to thank him … the muzzle of the gun was against his temple. George was … smiling. I couldn’t begin to describe—” She lowered her head, clenching the bracelet again. “Then he did it. I only had a second or two to react. It was that quick. No way … no way I could believe what he’d done.”

“I understand your husband’s father committed suicide after a string of business failures.”

She looked at him again, blinking. As if she had cobwebs in her eyes. She wiped at the lashes. “It’s like … a family curse. That aptitude for making huge sums of money, but then … just slips through their fingers. George’s father, his brother, an uncle or two … they all took their lives rather than … you know. Jail. Humiliation. They gladly left the humiliation for … loved ones to endure.” She looked as if she wanted to cry again, but there were no tears left. “I know George was in trouble. That federal investigation. But to do such a thing—in front of me—monstrous.”

“I have to ask you this. Were you and your husband getting along, Mrs. Whitaker?”

“Oh … we had our differences, like any married couple. Nothing we weren’t mature enough to deal with.” Lisa reached out suddenly and seized one of Peterson’s wrists. “Lieutenant. I’ll never forget what I saw! Never.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitaker.”

“There was something I noticed … in George’s eyes, in that moment before he squeezed the trigger.

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