Original Twin: A Thriller by Paula Gleeson

Author:Paula Gleeson [Gleeson, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2024-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

May and Sam sat at a quiet corner table, eating their meals.

The lights were dimmed in the restaurant, where the decor was stereotypically Italian. Red-and-white striped tablecloths. Breadsticks instead of flowers. Empty Chianti bottles used as candleholders with lavalike wax down the side.

It was their first chance to connect since May had been to Sharon’s and the detective had finished his shift earlier that morning. It was a night off for him, and they’d decided to go out for dinner.

May returned to their previous conversation, still not able to get what Sharon had brought up out of her mind since the previous night. “So, do you think Mom’s death may not have been an accident?” She watched Sam carefully.

“I’m not sure where she gets off putting these things into your mind.” Sam swigged his beer, his mood sour. “Same with the necklace and implying I know something. Like I said, she loves drama.”

May caught the detective looking at her barely eaten bowl of pasta. “But what if she’s right and we missed it? That someone has been watching us all these years and did something to Mom. That June was a sitting duck the second she went out alone.”

Sam wiped his plate with his garlic bread. “I’ll do some digging. See if I can get the coroner’s report.”

“You’d do that?” May pushed her plate away; eating was impossible with the way her stomach churned.

“Of course I’d do that. I said I’d help you, and I will. We made a deal, remember?” His eyes smiled even if his mouth didn’t.

“I’m glad I came here. I’m not sure how June did all that digging by herself.” May glanced at his beer.

“Want something? I’m going to get another one.” Sam was already waving the waiter over.

The young male waiter brought over the detective’s beer and placed it in front of him. Sam nodded at May.

“I’ll just have a black coffee.”

“Sure thing.” Picking up the detective’s empty plate, the waiter left.

“You going to eat that?” The detective pointed to May’s full plate of pasta. “I hate watching you waste good food.”

“No, I’m done.”

Sam sprinkled parmesan on top of the lukewarm pasta, twirled a big forkful, and then let the fork hang in the air as he took a swig of his beer first. “Feels good to have a couple of these tonight. Not on call—which doesn’t happen very often.”

“Do you like being a detective?” May leaned back in the small booth.

“I do. I’ve never wanted to be anything else.”

“Why’s that?”

“Had a family tragedy when I was a boy. My little brother died.”

“He drowned,” May said to herself.

“That’s right. Phillip, or Phil, was what we called him. Thing is, he could swim like a fish, that kid.” Sam picked at the label on his beer bottle. “They say he drowned, but I don’t believe that for a minute. He had swum in that dam since he had diapers on. He knew it better than all of us. I reckon it was another kid in town.

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