Boston by Hannah Howe

Author:Hannah Howe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense, christmas, boston, women sleuths, detective fiction, mystery fiction, robert b parker, private detectives, female detectives, psychological mysteries
Publisher: Goylake Publishing

Chapter Twenty

Twenty minutes later, Gabe arrived. Sitting in the cold with two corpses made for a long twenty minutes. In fact, I felt tired and nauseous. The tiredness and sick feeling in my stomach stemmed from a lack of sleep. Also, I had to confess that keeping cadavers company was not my idea of a good time.

Gabe approached and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, his tone loaded with concern.

“I could murder a cup of coffee,” I said, wincing at my choice of words.

Gabe produced a hip flask. “Whisky?” he offered.

“No thanks,” I said.

“You’re not much of a drinker.”

“Wine,” I said, “and a bottle of beer to be sociable.”

“But nothing to kill the pain?”

“My late mother drank for both of us,” I said, “for the whole family. The alcohol didn’t ease her suffering. In fact, it brought on more pain.”

“So,” Gabe asked, “how do you cope?”

“Alan,” I said simply.

“He must be one helluva guy.”

“He is,” I smiled.

Gabe glanced over my shoulder, to the gruesome murder scene. He grimaced. Then he called the cops.

The police and scene of the crime officers duly arrived, the latter in their white uniforms. Indeed, in their overalls, masks and gloves they looked like walking snowmen. Only their blue plastic overshoes confirmed that I was not hallucinating.

Under the supervision of a plain-clothes officer, the scene of the crime detectives set about their tasks, examining the bodies and collecting forensic evidence. Probably due to the tiredness, a random thought went through my mind, that of gunmen in the Wild West. I wondered what they would make of forensic evidence. Much simpler in their day – shoot first and ask questions later. Summary justice. Retribution from the barrel of a gun.

We offered our statements to the plain-clothes officer. Then Lieutenant Wyatt Martelli arrived.

With his mincing walk, Martelli tiptoed through the snow. He’d abandoned his contact lenses, in favour of rimless spectacles. However, snowflakes had speckled those spectacles so he removed them to rub his Mediterranean blue eyes. His iron-grey hair remained in place with its sharp left parting while his grey trench coat revealed no creases.

“You know where I should be tomorrow?” Martelli groaned while fingering his wedding band.

“Where?” Gabe asked.

“The Berkshires, with the wife and kids. The idea was to relax, ease myself into the New Year. Instead,” Martelli glanced at the bullet-riddled corpses, “you drag me out to a double murder. Who are they?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.

“Ritchie Sullivan and Sean O’Leary,” I said.

“What’s the story?” Martelli eased his spectacles over the bridge of his nose. He hunched his shoulders and placed his hands in his trench coat pockets while his gaze wandered over the crime scene.

“The victims kidnapped Madison Brooks,” Gabe said. “The details don’t matter, call it a prank.”

“The details don’t matter?” Martelli growled.

“The prank kidnapping is a family matter,” Gabe explained; “get embroiled in that and you’ll become sidetracked. All you need to know is, Ritchie and Sean kidnapped Madison, but meant her no harm. However, now someone has kidnapped Madison for real and finding her should be your priority.

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