A Match Made for Murder by Iona Whishaw (top 10 best books of all time txt) 📗

his fork at the salad. “This is okay, whatever it is. I prefer a good steak, myself. Preferably wild. I hunt back home. In fact, I could be hunting now instead of sitting here like a chump. No offence, ma’am.”

“None taken. You’ve had a dreadful time of it. It sounds like you might not stay on then?” Lane asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sure the Equity House Insurance Company will indulge me for a few more days, but I can’t look a gift job in the mouth. It depends on Ivy. She and I could have . . .” but he didn’t finish his thought. “I’m not sorry. I came down to see if she’d see things my way now he’s out of the way.” He looked at them sharply. “There. You’re shocked. I’m just telling the truth.”

Lane wasn’t shocked. This fit with what Ivy had told her about Ned, but she was surprised to hear him say it out loud. There’s the demon drink for you, she thought, wondering what anyone could possibly say after that sort of revelation. She daren’t look at Darling, but amazingly, it was he who came to the rescue.

“What sort of hunting do you get up in Wisconsin?”

By the time the dishes of ice cream arrived, Darling was heartily tired of Ned Renwick’s company, but he’d been provided with some food for thought, much to his annoyance. He might have to get involved after all.

Ames got up and stretched. A day later and they still hadn’t heard from the coroner on cause of death. Ames had asked Gilly to report anything unusual when he’d finished his work at the city morgue. Gilly had, on first look, been inclined to agree with the medic about the heart attack. They’d also contacted the Nelson Daily News to report the accident, without any of the details, and put out a request to the public for information.

Ames, who had asked Terrell to come to his office, thought he recognized something of himself in the rookie constable. Ames was finding it strange to have a subordinate, but he thought of how Darling, though inclined to sarcasm, had treated his ideas with respect. They’d been discussing the case, and Terrell had had some good insights. It felt a bit like completing the circle, to be giving Terrell the same respect. Now Terrell was silent, waiting for Ames to sum up.

“So,” Ames said, “this is what we’ve got: Watts appears to have taken a bag of some sort to go away but doesn’t tell his wife. Instead of going to work, he drives in the opposite direction and is found dead of apparently natural causes near the Harrop ferry, only his keys are gone, the doors are locked, and someone has swiped the cash out of his wallet and disappeared into thin air. And where’s the bag? Locked in the trunk of the car, of course. Well, the car’s around back. We can jimmy open the trunk.” Ames shook his head. “What I don’t have any more is a suspect for the mess on the garage door. But I suppose Miss Van Eyck seemed pretty adamant she didn’t want our involvement in the matter, so that’s that. I’m starving. I can’t think any more. The trunk can wait for half an hour. Why don’t we go next door and have a bite? It’s our usual place. Great grilled cheese and ham. Maybe someone will call in with something while we’re gone.”

“Sure. I can do up these notes later.”

“Well, well,” said April. “Look what the cat dragged in. And who have we got here, Sergeant Ames?”

Ames wasn’t sure he entirely liked the way she emphasized sergeant, but replied cheerfully enough, “This is Constable Terrell. He’s new.”

“Yes, I guessed as much. Nice to meet you, Constable,” said April, beaming. “Start you off with coffees? It’s freezing out there! We’ll be getting snow any time now.”

The two policemen sat at the counter, Terrell rubbing his hands to get some warmth into them.

“Where are you from?” April asked, filling the two thick white mugs she’d slid into place in front of them.

“Nova Scotia.”

“You don’t say! I guess you two are pretty busy right about now. I read in the paper today that Barney Watts has been found dead. Not before time, if you want my opinion.” This she said in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning toward them. “What’ll it be, gentlemen?”

“I’ll have my usual ham and cheese, grilled,” said Ames.

“Quelle surprise,” April said. “And you, Constable?”

“I’ll have the same, I guess.”

“We do have other stuff, you know. Or you could just skip it all and go right to the pie. Apple blackberry today.” She smiled winningly.

Terrell smiled back. “Maybe another time.”

When she had gone to put the order slip up, Ames turned to Terrell and said in a low voice, “Now what do you think she meant by that? She must know something. She’s not usually bloodthirsty like that.”

Terrell glanced at April’s back. “I’m glad to hear it. And I wondered the same thing.”

When the sandwiches came, Ames said, “Have you got a second, April?”

April looked around the café. There were only two booths occupied; it was pushing one-thirty and the lunch crowd had mostly dispersed. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. You want to know what I meant by that remark about Watts, I suppose.”

“You’re psychic. That’s exactly what we want. Did you know him?”

“No, not exactly. By reputation, more. I have a sister who’s six years older than me, and he had a reputation back in the thirties of going after girls way too young for him. I think one of Sandra’s friends got into some kind of trouble. Then there was a girl called Tina for a while too, back in . . . oh I don’t know, way before the war, anyway. He works down at the yards, and I think he has a wife, and maybe even a kid, but that doesn’t seem to stop him