Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 01 - Murder Off the Books Read Free

was authentic. Salvatore Marini, Senior, had made a decent living with the truck until his infamous last job. Mac had read about it in the newspapers. His eyesight failing, the old man had crossed two wires that he shouldn’t have on a swimming pool pump. When he tested it, half of Arlington went dark. Jeff O’Herlihy had given him a nice send-off, deluxe hand-rubbed walnut casket and a violin player at the viewing, but Little Sal was a little short on cash until the estate settled. Jeff had taken possession of the truck only hours before.
    “I’d let you wait for me under the tree, but you know what happened last night,” Mac muttered glancing over at the dog sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the side window and pretending to ignore him.
    “You never should have gone into that house. You know that.”
    The dog turned her head in his direction and whined.
    “I don’t care about that cat. That cat belonged there. You didn’t. We were just going to watch the house. See who came and went. Make some notes. That’s all.”
    The dog gave a sharp bark as if in disagreement.
    “Okay. So maybe when that guy broke in I considered doing something, but–”
    The dog barked again, interrupting him.
    “Well, we’ll never know now, will we? Before I could get through to the cops on my damn cell phone, you scared him off and then chased into the house after that cat. I could have been arrested going in after you.”
    Whiskey whined and then made a series of noises as though she were presenting justification for her actions.
    Mac rolled his eyes. “Right. Now explain the ham.”
    The dog ducked her head and turned away.
    “That’s what I thought. You consider that while I’m inside pretending to shop for caskets.”
     
    ***
     
    “That’ll be $27.95. Make out the check to Foley Hardware,” the repairman with the six-pack-a-day paunch grunted.
    Rachel glanced at the new pane of glass in her kitchen door window and sighed. She quickly completed the check and handed it off with a curt thanks. She was already more than two hours late for work, but obviously couldn’t leave her house until the door was fixed. Although, how likely was it that a ham-stealing thief would be back? On the other hand, he did forget the mustard.
    She felt something brush against her leg. “Thanks for all the protection,” she muttered. “You’d sell me out to Jack the Ripper for a stick of gum.”
    The butterscotch fur ball looked up from her empty food dish in disbelief.
    “I’ve been kind of busy,” Rachel said, getting out the kitty kibble and pouring it in the dish. “You might have bared those claws a little last night.”
    The furry fraidy cat snorted at the dry food, waiting patiently for something good to appear in her bowl.
    “Only part of you I saw last night was a tail ducking under my bed. I don’t know when you followed me downstairs.” Rachel opened a can of expensive feline morsels and plopped a sizeable dollop on top of the dry food. “While I was hiding in the closet I have to admit to wishing you were a Doberman, but I guess you came through for me at the end, didn’t you?”
    Snickers meowed and Rachel flashed back to the long, slow seconds as she’d crept down the dark staircase, a hockey stick clutched in one sweaty hand, the polished banister in the other. Eleven steps to the bottom. Eleven steps without air.
    Lightheaded, she’d taken a deep breath when her fingers had finally wrapped around the end of the banister. The house had been as silent as a tomb. She’d thought for a second that maybe the intruders were gone. She’d thought about looking for the phone. A sudden noise coming from the den at the back of the house had banished those thoughts.
    Rachel looked at the can of cat food in her hand and the scene from the previous evening replayed in slow motion ….
    The hockey stick hitting the floor with a clatter …. Her fingers fumbling with the stubborn lock on the front door…. The cat