A Killing Spring Read Free Page A

Could we sit down?”
    Julie gestured to one of the tables that had been set up for the party. Alex took the chair across from her. He was silent for a moment, watching her face, then he said, “When did you last see your husband?”
    Julie’s answer was almost inaudible. “Last night. Around eight-thirty.”
    “Was it usual for you to spend the night apart.”
    She looked up defiantly. “Of course not. We’d just had a disagreement.”
    “What was the disagreement about?”
    Julie shrugged. “I don’t remember. It was just one of those foolish quarrels married people have.”
    “But it was serious enough that your husband didn’t come home. Weren’t you concerned?”
    “No … Reed was angry. I thought he’d just gone somewhere to cool off. I went to bed.”
    “Did you try to locate him today?”
    Suddenly Julie’s eyes blazed. “Of course I did. I called his office, but he wasn’t there.”
    “And that didn’t surprise you?”
    “He’s an important man. He doesn’t have a silly little job where he sits at a desk all day.” She leaned forward and adjusted the green bow on the wicker basket. When the ribbon was straight, she looked up warily. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”
    “The circumstances of your husband’s death were unusual.”
    Alex’s tone was matter-of-fact, but I could see Julie stiffen. “What are you talking about?”
    “Well, for one thing, he was dressed oddly.”
    Julie’s eyes widened. She was wearing a silk shirt, a cardigan, slacks, and sandals, all in carefully co-ordinated shades of taupe. She glanced reflexively at her own outfit as if to reassure herself that, whatever her husband’s eccentricities, her own clothing was beyond reproach.
    Alex leaned towards her. “Was your husband a transvestite?” he asked softly.
    Julie leaped up so abruptly that her legs caught the edge of the table. The crystal wine goblet in front of her leaned crazily, then fell. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “I don’t know why they’d send someone like you out here in the first place. What are you, some sort of special native constable?”
    “I’m not a special anything, just a regular inspector who happens to be Ojibway.”
    “I don’t care what kind of native you are,” she said.
    She disappeared down the hall, and when she came back she was wearing a trenchcoat and carrying an over-the-shoulder bag. “You can leave now,” she said. “I’m going down to the police station to find someone who knows what he’s doing.”
    As he zipped his windbreaker, Alex’s face was impassive. “I’ll give you a lift,” he said. “I don’t think you should be driving right now.”
    “I’ve got my car here,” I said. “I can take her, Alex.”
    She shot me a venomous look. “So you can relay all the details to your friends? No thanks.”
    She headed back into the hall, and I followed her. There was a mirror near the front door and she stopped and checked her makeup.
    “Julie, there has to be something I can do,” I said.
    Her mirror image looked at me coldly. “Always the girl guide, aren’t you, Joanne? But since you’re so eager to serve, why don’t you phone my guests and tell them the party’s cancelled. The list is by the phone in the kitchen.” Beneath the mirror there was a small bureau. Julie opened its top drawer, took out a key and handed it to me. “Lock up before you leave,” she said. “There was a break-in down the street last week. Put the key through the letter slot when you go.”
    “I’ll make sure everything’s safe,” I said.
    She laughed angrily. “You do that,” she said. Then she opened the door and vanished into the rain.
    Alex turned to me. “I’ll call you,” he said. “Right now I’d better get out there and unlock the car before Mrs. G. gets soaked.”
    I drew him towards me and kissed him. He smelled of cold rain and soap. “My grandmother used to say that every time we turn the other