Unwilling Accomplice - Barbara Seranella by Barbara Seranella

Author:Barbara Seranella
Language: eng
Format: epub

Cheryl said quickly, "Her niece is missing and she’s been working with the police."

Munch felt a little annoyed at having her business reduced to those few terse sentences. Cheryl made it sound as if Munch were the intruder rather than being here reluctantly at Cheryl’s own request. Maybe Cheryl hoped to deflect attention from herself.

He walked over to the couch and bussed his wife’s cheek. His eyes passed over the highball glass, but he didn’t react. Mourning had its own protocol. It was also paradoxical, leaving you delicate and invulnerable at the same time. Priorities shifted. To be linked with someone in shared pain was a special relationship.

"Is there something we can help you with?" he asked, turning to Munch.

"I don’t know," Munch said, wishing she hadn’t come. "I guess I’m just on a fact-finding mission at this point."

Cheryl looked up, her rheumy eyes clearing for a moment of unexpected intensity. "I’m sure you think something like this could never happen to you. I hope it never does. I pray that your niece returns home safely."

Munch tried to make her mind go blank. It was as if Cheryl Koon had read her thoughts.

"I don’t mean to scare you. I’m only saying I thought I was safe, too."

Michael Koon patted his wife’s shoulder and she fell silent. Munch had seen odder couples. Obviously Michael saw a different woman from the one Cheryl Koon viewed in the mirror. She wondered if Cheryl was the bank. It sounded pretty cynical, she knew, but Munch had an instinctive distrust of guys with clean hands, movie star smiles, and deep tans. She edged toward the door.

"I really should be going."

Michael Koon picked up a cardboard box by the door.

"I’ll walk you out."

He lifted the tailgate of the Rover and set the box next to several other cartons filled with Nintendo games, boy’s clothes, and several brands of expensive tennis shoes: New Balance, Nike, and L.A. Gear high-tops. He followed her gaze.

"I thought it would be easier if I got these out of the house."

Munch wondered why the Koons felt they needed to explain their every action.

"You look familiar," she said. "Have we met?"

"I’ve done some work on television, some commercials, a little modeling."

"That must be it." She pointed to the boxes. "I know a shelter in Hollywood that would love to get this stuff."

"I've already promised it to the Boys and Girls Club on Lincoln."

"That’s good, too."

"Can I get your number?" he asked.

"Your wife has it."

He nodded, but didn’t look particularly happy. "I’d like to be kept informed. If you find out anything . . ."

"I can’t make you any promises."

He slammed the tailgate. "In the future, I would appreciate you speaking to me first."

As he spoke, he put his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t think he was hitting on her. It was more as if he felt he were doing her a favor touching her. She stared at his hand until he removed it.

She did her best to think charitable thoughts of him as she drove away.

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