The Wench is Wicked Blonde Verdict Delilah Was Deadly by Carter Brown

The Wench is Wicked Blonde Verdict Delilah Was Deadly by Carter Brown

Author:Carter Brown [Brown, Carter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hard boiled, Mysteries & Detective, Thriller & Suspense
ISBN: 9781944520335
Publisher: Stark House Press
Published: 2017-12-11T05:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 8

Cone Hill Capers

We handed drinks around. Then we sat and looked at each other.

“How is the case progressing, Lieutenant?” Rowlands asked.

“Just fine,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “As good as that? You expecting to make an arrest soon?”

“Anytime now,” I assured him.

“I suppose I can’t ask who?” he smiled.

“No,” I smiled back at him, “you can’t.”

His smile started to show holes all over the place.

I got to my feet. “Well, I guess I ought to be running along. Thanks for the drink, Mrs. Offenheim.”

Rowlands also got to his feet. “Hope we haven’t disturbed you, Lieutenant. I was a client of Offenheim’s, as you know. I thought I should drop over and offer my sympathy to his wife. I brought Johnnie along so that Mrs. Offenheim wouldn’t misunderstand my intentions.”

“Sure,” I said. I walked past him toward the door.

The silver-blonde gave me a frosty look. Elmer glared at me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, “I don’t have any dog biscuits with me.”

He made an inarticulate noise, just like a dog, and I kept on walking. Gail came into the hall with me.

“Fancy Mr. Rowlands calling on me,” she said, “and bringing his retinue with him.”

“Just fancy,” I said.

She put her hand on my arm. “You’re sore with me, Al,” she said sympathetically. “Aren’t you?”

“Who—me?” I said. “I like the drive up here to Cone Hill. The air is so stimulating.”

“Call me tomorrow,” she said. “My mood might have changed by then.”

“In a word,” I said, “nuts.”

I opened the door and stepped out into the night. The door slammed shut behind me. I got into the car and drove away. I had a bright idea ... an idea that Captain Parker would never approve of, but then he’s a married man and respectable—well, almost.

I drove over to Rowlands’ house—or, to be exact, I drove a block past and made a left-hand turn. I left the prowl car parked in that street and walked back.

I thought that while he was busy visiting, I might just take a look at his house. People as experienced as Rowlands don’t generally leave things lying around, but it could be worth taking a look just in case.

I catfooted up the drive, keeping close to the fence. There were no lights showing in the front of the house. I followed the drive down the side and around to the back. There was a light on in one of the downstairs rooms. I wondered if anyone was home or whether they just had forgotten the light. There was an easy way to find out.

I came up close to the house and moved along until I stopped in front of one of the unlit windows. I tried lifting it and it slid upward without any trouble. I listened for a few seconds, but no alarm bells jangled anywhere inside. So I threw one leg over the sill, then climbed in.

I closed the window behind me carefully. It was quite dark inside the room. After a while my eyes got used to it and I could pick out the dark bulk of furniture.



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