A Death Most Cold by Petryshyn Jaroslav (Jerry)

Author:Petryshyn, Jaroslav (Jerry) [Last, First name]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Iguana Books
Published: 2020-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

***

Myron never met Oliver’s wife, Helen, at the party. He did know that a short time later she was involved in a serious auto accident that left her in a coma for several weeks. She partially recovered, but when occasionally asked how she was, Oliver said “improving” and left it at that. Not wishing to pry, Myron probed no further. Now, wheeling into the plaza parking lot, Myron wondered about that and how Sheila fit into the picture.

Oliver’s home wasn’t far from the plaza (Myron looked up the address just to be sure) in Northview Estates, a middle-class enclave developed about a decade ago. Unlike some of the older sections of the city, it was denuded of trees, a black mark against the builders who levelled every growth in sight in their rush to erect dwellings for eager customers during the boom period. The economy had slowed considerably, and most of those companies had long since gone belly-up, but their handiwork was still evident in the lack of indigenous trees.

Relatively speaking, Oliver’s house was modest, a split-level of brick, siding, and stucco. As Myron rounded the corner, he spotted Sheila pulling away from his driveway in her beige Volvo. He slowed and watched her motor off in the opposite direction. Definitely something going on there…

Myron didn’t know exactly how to approach Oliver. “Hi, I’m here helping the police investigate Dworking’s death,” didn’t seem quite the right tack to take. On the other hand, he didn’t want to be there under false pretences. As he stopped by the curb, he decided simply to play it by ear and see how Oliver reacted to an unexpected visitor.

Oliver came to the door wearing a plain white shirt, baggy brown corduroy pants, and scruffy slippers with the toes beginning to pop through. His face was strained, puffy, and it appeared that he had forgotten to shave that morning. Rough night, judging by how unkempt he is, Myron surmised.

“Myron!”

“Hello, Oliver.” There was an awkward pause as Oliver held the door open, letting the frigid air rush in. Myron finally filled in the breach. “Ah…was out and about in the neighbourhood — thought I’d pop in — see how you were doing.” Not really a lie; only a half-truth.

“Well, do come in. The coffee pot is still hot.” Oliver took Myron’s coat and hung it in the hall closet while Myron slipped out of his toe boots and followed Oliver into the den. “Good of you to stop by in my time of troubles,” he said as Myron surveyed the cozy, dark-panelled room. “Have a seat.” Oliver gestured to a black leather armchair. “I’ll get the coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Once the coffee was served and the obligatory discussion of the weather and the faltering fortunes of the Edmonton Oilers were dispensed with (Oliver had no interest in the Super Bowl), Myron sought to steer the conversation toward a more meaningful if contentious direction. “Driving up I saw Sheila leaving…”

“Yes… She paid me a visit this morning.” Oliver licked his lips and set his cup and saucer down on the coffee table between them with a clatter.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.