Die Laughing by Arlene Kay

Author:Arlene Kay [Kay, Arlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Cape Cod Mystery
Publisher: Mainly Murder Press
Published: 2012-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Alex didn’t like Fuselli, but he respected him. His sources in D.C. described the sheriff as a top-notch lawyer and investigator. Smart and honest, a good combination in Alex’s book. Before driving to Boston, he popped into the police station for a quick chat with the lawman. Nicole would be livid if she knew, but that was a risk Alex was willing to take. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. Goodhaven looked like a postcard-perfect town, but that was pure illusion. Currier and Ives. A murderer with Nicole in his sights hid among those smiling faces and homey storefronts. Alex shook his head. Can’t assume that the killer’s a man. Lots of women today were strong and motivated. Strong enough to subdue an old woman, mean enough to wield a club. He shivered as he pictured Nicole with her lofty ideals and head full of nonsense doing battle with a killer. That wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. He’d make sure of it.

Maybe Fuselli was right. Alex suspected that Shelby’s comic collection had tempted someone beyond reason. Maybe she’d told someone, let it slip that she had a fortune sitting somewhere. He hoped it wasn’t Jarrod, but as her nephew he had to be suspect number one. Blood: thicker than water and twice as messy.

Times were tough for a lot of people, and Shelby was often cocky, even cruel, in her dealings with others. Alex had seen that himself. He’d also seen her corpse. The stark brutality had sickened him. It seemed so personal that he doubted the murderer was a stranger. He or she was probably an acquaintance or even a friend, someone Nicole might know and trust.

Nicole. It always came down to her. Alex yearned to protect her, shield her from harm. Maybe he was getting soft. Maybe he was in love. Neither possibility thrilled him.

“Dr. Lee. What a surprise.” Fuselli’s face suggested that the surprise wasn’t a pleasant one. Although the sheriff was neatly pressed and polished, he wore worry like an ill-fitting suit.

“Sorry to interrupt. You seem busy.” Alex stared at Fuselli’s empty desk and soiled coffee cup to make his point.

“Let me think. I’ve burned half my overtime budget and all my shoe leather, and I’m no closer to finding Shelby Whitholm’s murderer than I was last week. Her nephew is thumping his chest and name-dropping about calling in more competent help, and damn it to hell, I can’t even blame him.” Fuselli patted his pocket. “God, I wish I still smoked. Right about now I could use a cigarette.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Jarrod’s not so bad, if you know the type.”

That made Fuselli grin. “Oh, I know the type. Do I ever. Washington, D.C., is full of self-important men with fancy girlfriends, itching for a fight.” He took a deep breath and clenched his fist. “It’s been five days, and the trail’s colder than Aunt Maude’s freezer. I know, I’m positive, that this thing is local, probably related to that damn comic collection.” Fuselli put his head in his hands and massaged his temples.

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