The Girl in the Green Raincoat Read Free

Whitney then chucked it all to work at her family’s foundation. Because, yes, on top of everything else, she was rich, someone who had never known a single care about money. Whitney Talbot excelled at everything—except relationships. She lived in a guest cottage on the grounds of her parents’ house out in the valley and proclaimed herself a spinster. It was easier than admitting she was lonely, Tess suspected.
    “I’m so clearly the Thelma Ritter in this scenario,” Whitney said now. “Only taller. Remember the first time you see Grace Kelly in Rear Window , popping into the frame as Jimmy Stewart awakes from his nap. She was so beautiful I literally gasped.”
    “I remember it more as an asthmatic wheeze, in which your knees jerked up, spilling a tub of buttered popcorn all over the man in front of you.”
    “No, that was a horror film,” Whitney said. “ Aliens ? Re-animator ? We were at the Charles, back in the day when it was one big theater, and we would go to late movies, then to the Club Charles and drink until two a.m.” She addressed Tess’s stomach. “I knew your mother when she was fun , you little parasite.”
    Tess frowned, and Whitney, in a rare burst of sensitivity, recognized she had overstepped. “Have you thought about names?”
    “Not really,” Tess lied. She and Crow had learned quickly this was dangerous territory. “We’re going to honor the Jewish tradition of choosing the name of someone no longer alive. Actually, we’re going whole hog on the Jewish traditions. No baby shower, no fixing up the room ahead of time. Don’t want the evil eye to fasten its gaze on us.”
    Her tone was light, self-mocking, but Whitney wasn’t fooled. “It will be okay, Tess.”
    Tess tried to make a casual motion of assent, part shrug and wave. Unfortunately, she had a forkful of risotto halfway to her mouth and succeeded only in flinging it at the window.
    “Postcard from your future,” Whitney said, removing the clump of rice and dividing it between the two dogs, vigilant sentries whenever food was consumed.
    “Why hasn’t she come back?” Tess fretted, incapable of keeping her eyes away from the park, much less keeping her mind from this topic.
    “If the dog ran away, she doesn’t have a dog to walk.”
    “But she would have come through, looking for the dog, right? And if the dog ended up running home, as Crow insists, then they would be out walking again, right? Something happened, Whitney. Has there been anything on the news about a missing woman, about some strange incident in North Baltimore?”
    “For the tenth time—no, Tess.”
    “I haven’t asked you ten times.”
    “But you’ve been bugging Crow all day. He told me. Read a book.” Whitney looked through the stack. “Your Aunt Kitty’s as eclectic as ever, I see. The only commonality I divine here is that most of the books are big and fat.”
    “Like me,” Tess said, bitter at her body’s betrayal. It wasn’t just her blood pressure and the baby mound that seemed designed to give her permanent indigestion. Her feet were so swollen she couldn’t wear anything but slippers or an old pair of Uggs, and she fit into those only after Crow sliced open the seams.
    “Here’s a skinny one— The Daughter of Time , by Josephine Tey.”
    “A comfort read, I’ve read it a dozen times.” And, like its main character, she was determined to solve a mystery from her sickbed. “Look, why can’t you and Crow just go around, canvass the neighborhood, see if anyone knows the dog or the woman?”
    “Tess—”
    “I’m worried,” she said, putting on a pout, although she knew she didn’t do it well. “When I worry, my blood pressure starts to rise.”
    Whitney wasn’t fooled, Tess could tell that much. But she was a loyal person, one inclined to indulge the whims of a confined friend.
    “We’ll do that tomorrow,” Whitney said. “It’s Sunday, people will be home. Maybe we’ll find ‘missing’ posters for the dog,