To Play the Fool by Laurie R. King

Author:Laurie R. King [King, Laurie R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780553574555
Google: kRrl2OSdEOQC
Amazon: 0553574558
Publisher: Crimeline
Published: 1995-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

“No thank you, Ms… ?”

“Didn’t I leave my name? No, maybe I didn’t. I’m Sam Rutlidge. This is Dobie,” she added as they entered the kitchen. “Short for Doberman.”

Doberman was a dachshund. She sniffed Kate’s shoes and ankles enthusiastically and wagged her whip of a tail into a blur, but she neither jumped up and down nor yapped. When Kate reached a hand down, Dobie pushed against it like a cat with her firm, supple body, gave Kate a brief lick with her tongue, and then went to lie in a basket on the lowest shelf of a built-in bookshelf, surrounded by cookbooks. Her dark eyes glittered as she watched them.

“That’s the calmest dachshund I’ve ever seen,” said Kate.

“Just well trained. Sure you won’t have some?” She held out the pot from the coffeemaker. It smelled very good.

“I will change my mind, thanks.”

“Black okay? There isn’t any milk in the house, none that you’d want to drink, anyway.”

“Black is fine. Do I understand that you’ve been away, Ms. Rutlidge?”

“skiing. I’ve been in Tahoe for the last couple of weeks, I got back after midnight last night. It was stupid to call at that hour, I guess, but somehow you don’t think of the police department as working nine to five.”

“The department works twenty-four hours. Some of us are allowed to sleep occasionally. How did you hear about the cremation?”

“I was reading the papers. I’m always so wired when I get in after a long drive, especially at night, there’s no point in going to bed, since I just stare at the ceiling. I make myself some hot milk, soak in the bath, read for a while, just give myself a chance to stop vibrating, you know? So anyway, I went through my mail and then started leafing through the newspapers—the neighbor brings them in for me—and I saw that article about the body being burned, the day I left.”

“You left for Lake Tahoe on the Wednesday?”

“Early Wednesday. I like to get out of the Bay Area before the traffic gets too thick.”

“You didn’t see any news while you were at Tahoe?”

“I was too busy.”

“So you read about it at—what, one or two this morning?”

“About then. Maybe closer to three.”

“What made you think to call us?”

“Well, the first papers were really general, and aside from the fact that it was so close to here, I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I don’t know any homeless people.”

Kate made some encouraging noise.

“Then for a couple of days, there wasn’t anything, or if there was, I didn’t see it—I wasn’t reading very carefully. Then on Monday, there was another article, with a picture, and as soon as I saw the man, it all came back to me.”

“Which man was this?”

In answer, the woman stood up and went out of the room. The dog raised her sleek head from her paws and stared at the door, attentive but not concerned, until Sam Rutlidge came back with a section of the paper, folded back to a photograph.

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