Front Page Affair Read Free Page B

a stall and forced herself to look again.
    The body was that of Hunter Cole, someone to whom she had spoken not more than an hour before.
    She turned to Hotchkiss. The secretary’s face was ashen.
    So forceful in life, Mr. Cole was nothing now. “I should go.” Kitty tottered from the barn. She sat on a nearby bench, lowered her head in her arms, and waited for the dizziness to pass.
    Around her, the stable hands chattered. The man must have been killed while they were out watching the fireworks. They had been gone for forty minutes. Not one of them had stayed back. No one saw any stranger come or go. They had discovered the body only when they returned to check on the horses.
    Kitty looked up to see one of the club’s employees arrive on the scene and announce that the police had been called and that everyone must remain on the premises and nothing should be touched.
    Hotchkiss said something to him about breaking the news to Mrs. Basshor.
    Kitty made her way back to the party in a daze. She couldn’t, and didn’t want to, leave now.
    The news had evidently filtered through the guests. They huddled together, whispering in uneasy clusters, as children were packed off with their nursemaids and chauffeurs. The band had fallen silent.
    â€œHow could this happen?” someone said.
    â€œWhere’s the killer now?”
    â€œI hope they don’t think one of us is involved.”
    â€œMust we stay to talk to the police?” A lady’s sharp voice signaled her disdain for lawmen.
    â€œIf horses could speak, then everything would be resolved,” another remarked.
    Kitty looked for Aimee Cole and found her sitting at one of the children’s tables beside the pantalooned playwright, Mrs. Clements.
    â€œNow, now, my dear,” Poppy Clements said, patting the widow’s shoulders gently. “Now, now.” She snapped her fingers at a waiter, who jumped to attention, and ordered him to bring a cup of tea with rum.
    Aimee Cole stared blankly into space. She appeared to be in shock.
    â€œWhat in damnation was Hunter doing at the stables?” a man beside Kitty said.
    Another replied, “Just like him to be lurking off.”
    A uniformed policeman approached Mrs. Cole a short while later. “I’m sorry to disturb you at a time like this, madam, but I’m afraid that I will have to ask you some questions.” He flipped open his notepad.
    Aimee Cole responded dully to his questions. “I don’t know why my husband went to the stables.”
    â€œDid he have any enemies, Mrs. Cole? Anyone who might want to do him harm?”
    â€œNo one that I know of.”
    Kitty was amazed by the speed of it—a flesh-and-blood person had just been killed, and now it was straight down to the facts.
    â€œWhen did you see him last?” the policeman inquired.
    â€œShortly before the fireworks began.” She noticed Kitty and pointed. “This young lady was with me at the time.”
    â€œWait for me, miss,” the policeman said to Kitty just as one of his colleagues handed him a small bundle wrapped in a handkerchief. He placed the bundle on the table and then opened it.
    Aimee Cole’s hand flew to her mouth. “It’s Hunter’s,” she said, staring at a small gray revolver. “Where did you find it?”
    â€œOn the floor of the stables, madam. Was Mr. Cole in the habit of carrying guns to garden parties?”
    â€œNo, he wasn’t. And I begged him not to bring it here, but he wouldn’t listen. He told me he had to be prepared.” Her voice cracked. “He said—because of the Morgan shooting—that there were too many crazies running about.”
    The waiter brought over a cup of tea.
    â€œDrink this,” Mrs. Clements ordered.
    Aimee Cole took a sip. “Did Hunter fire it?” Her eyes never left the pistol. “Was he able to defend himself?”
    The policeman lowered his gaze.