Kinsey and Me Read Free Page A

sentimental. Such a romantic. I adored
     him. Really.”
    She seemed on the verge of tears and I allowed her a few moments to compose herself.
    “What did you quarrel about last night?”
    “I don’t even remember,” she said. “We went out to have a drink and one thing led
     to another. We got into some silly argument at the bar and next thing you know, the
     whole subject of his past came up—this woman Lorraine he was crazy about years ago,
     Ann-Marie, Trish, Lynn. He kept talking about how wonderful they were. He got ugly
     and so did I. We came back to the apartment and things just went from bad to worse.
     I had to get out of there so I left. When I came back this morning, I thought he was
     gone. Then I noticed Althea’s bedroom door was ajar and there he was. Right in her
     bed, like Goldilocks.”
    “What was he doing in her room?”
    “Well, I’d locked him out of mine. He kept banging on the bedroom door, insisting
     that I let him in, but I refused. I told him if he so much as set foot in there again,
     I’d blow his ba— I indicated I’d injure him where it counts. Anyway, it looks like
     he took a glass and a bottle of bourbon into her room and drank ’til he passed out.
     I waited until I could hear him snoring and then I unlocked my bedroom door and slipped
     out the front. When I came back this morning, I could see he was still stretched out
     on Althea’s bed. I stood in the doorway and told him he’d have to move out. I thought
     he was listening to me, of course, just pretending to be asleep, but when I finished
     and he didn’t say a word, I got furious and started shaking him. That’s when I realized
     he was dead, when I pulled the covers down and saw all the blood.”
    I was taking notes as fast as I could and I didn’t realize she’d stopped. When the
     silence stretched, I glanced up at her. She was beginning to dissolve, her mouth trembling,
     eyes brimming with tears. “Take your time,” I murmured.
    “Well,” she said. She fumbled in her handbag for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.
     She blew her nose and took a deep breath. “Anyway, when I saw the gun on the bed,
     I just did the first thing that occurred to me.”
    I could feel my heart sink. “What was that?”
    “I picked it up.”
    “Mrs. Culpepper, you shouldn’t have done that. Now your fingerprints are
on
the gun.”
    “I know. That’s why I put it right back down and left. My goodness, I was so upset.”
    “I can imagine,” I said. “What next?”
    “Well, I got in my car and drove around some more and then I stopped and looked up
     your number in the phone book and came here.”
    “Why me?” I said, trying not to sound plaintive.
    “You’re a woman. I thought you’d understand. I’ll pay you anything if you’ll help
     me straighten this out. I mean, if you could explain it all to the police . . .” She
     twisted the tissue, looking at me helplessly.
    My eyeballs were starting to bulge with pain. I wanted an Alka-Seltzer in the worst
     kind of way. I slid my desk drawer open a crack and spied a packet. I wondered what
     would happen if I opened the foil and slipped an Alka-Seltzer onto my tongue like
     a Necco wafer. I’ve heard it kills you to do that, but I’m not sure it’s true. The
     rumor circulated through my grade school one year, along with the yarn about the mouse
     tail that showed up in a bottle of soda pop. I’ve been uneasy about pop bottles ever
     since, but who knows how stories like that get started.
    I tried to bring my battered intelligence back to the matter at hand. I knew I was
     secretly hoping to avoid dealing with Emily Culpepper’s problem, which was a whopper.
    “Emily . . . May I call you Emily?”
    “Please do. And I’ll call you Kinsey, if that’s all right.”
    “Perfect,” I said. “I think what we should do at this point is deposit you in the
     offices of a friend of mine, an attorney right here in the building. While you’re
     bringing her up