Murder Always Barks Twice by Jennifer Hawkins

Author:Jennifer Hawkins [Hawkins, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

27

The next thing Emma knew, she was two full meters back from the window seat, staring at the open window, with Oliver clutched tight in her arms.

“That was bad,” wheezed Oliver. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’m . . .”

“Not your fault,” Emma whispered. Her heart was banging against her ribs like it wanted to get out. She couldn’t stop seeing Oliver tilting forward over the empty air, his paws waving.

“It’s okay.” He licked her chin. “I’m okay, and so are you. Nobody fell. It’s all okay.”

“Yeah, I know.” She pressed her forehead against the scruff of his neck.

“Emma, you can let go now.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Emma sucked in a deep breath and put Oliver down. She pressed her palms against her face and tried to will herself to stop shaking.

The window hung open. The breeze blew the dark curtains back. Emma smelled the summer air.

Emma made herself walk to the window. She needed to get it shut. It was dangerous. Somebody could fall.

Somebody already fell. She swallowed hard.

Emma made herself lean in and look more closely at the latch. It was dangling loose. It was the kind of latch with a little bar that rested in a bracket. When you wanted to open the window, you turned the latch up and pushed the window open. When you pulled the window shut, you turned the latch and dropped that little bar into the bracket again.

But the bracket was missing. Nothing was holding the windows closed except the hinges.

She could picture what came next so easily. Marcie had arrived back home. She was tired. She was sad. She’d come into her office to drop off her bag, and she’d slumped down on the window seat and leaned against the pane.

And the latch had given way, and she’d tipped out and fallen. Just like Oliver almost had.

It had been an accident.

Except for Caite Hope-Johnston sneaking into the house to get at the computer, she reminded herself. And except for Bert making so sure that everybody knows it’s suicide.

And what about Oliver saying something’s bad here?

“Oliver . . .” she began.

“What are you doing?” demanded Frank. “Get back from there!”

Startled, Emma shrieked and whirled around. Frank stood in the office doorway, his face flushed red.

Oliver barked.

“I, uh, sorry.” Emma tried to calm her heart down, but it wasn’t interested. “Oliver got up on the seat, and he put his paws on the window, and it came open.”

Frank swore and hurried forward. He grabbed the window latch and pulled it shut. “This house! I swear the place is held together with caulk and baling wire! But my dear sister kept saying she’d handle it. Didn’t want anybody’s help. She could take care of everything and she was going to, whether the rest of us wanted her to or not.” He glared at the window. Then he stopped, and the color drained from his cheeks. “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I’m blaming her. Because I never would.”

“No, no, of course not,” Emma murmured.

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