Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best desktop ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“It’s usually relevant to everything. So yeah, maybe.”

I thought maybe she was right. We climbed in and headed toward Morris Park.

Two

Melanie Vuolo’s new house was a big, white, detached, clapboard affair a couple of blocks from Van Nest Park. She opened the door and didn’t so much look at us as calibrate us. She had mischievous eyes and a naughty smile to go with it. She had red hair, deep blue eyes and a cute spray of freckles across her nose. She was probably in her mid-fifties, but looked younger. She raised an eyebrow at Dehan and almost winked at me. Her eyelid fluttered, but she thought better of it and smiled instead. Like I said, it was a naughty smile.

“Yes?”

We showed her our badges.

“I am Detective Stone, this is Detective Dehan. May we come in, please, Mrs. Vuolo?”

The change in her expression said she guessed why we were there. She stood back, watching my face. “Is it about Kath? Have you caught the bastard?”

Her accent was Irish. Not New York Irish, but Irish Irish.

“No, not yet, but the Lee County sheriff has asked us to look into a few things at this end.”

She gave a quick nod. “Come in. Would you have a cup of tea?” Before I could answer she looked up into Dehan’s face. “How ’bout you, love? Will you have a nice cup of tea? I’ll put the kettle on, so. Go and sit down. I’ll be with you in no time. Isn’t the weather awful unseasonal?”

The living room was at the back, which made it dark. Through the French doors, the back garden was a luminous green, with the shadow of the house cast long across the grass, touching a large, old wooden shed at the end. The room was fussily furnished, with lots of lace and small porcelain statues of kittens looking nauseating. There were photographs, dozens of them, on every available surface. I scanned them and took note, but Dehan was working through them methodically, one after another. Melanie’s voice came to us from the kitchen.

“Would you have some biscuits? What biscuits do you like? Sure, I’ll put out a selection, shall I?”

She came in on busy feet with a laden tray and set it on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. “Don’t stand there like a couple of trees,” she said. “Sit. Milk and sugar? Help yourself to biscuits. The chocolate ones are my favorites.”

She laughed for no particular reason as she poured from a large, elaborate teapot. Dehan sat in an armchair and Melanie handed her an elaborate cup of the same design. Dehan took it and cleared her throat.

“Mrs. Vuolo…”

“Mel.”

“Mel, what can you tell us about Kath? What made her go to Colorado? How were things at home with her and…? No milk or sugar.”

“Mo.” She said it as she filled my cup. I sat and she handed it to me. “He’s a lovely fellow.” Her smile was genuine. “Didn’t he just dote on her! Nothing was too much for him. God forgive me for saying it, but she didn’t know what she had!”

Dehan bit into a biscuit and spoke with her mouth full. “She was depressed?”

“God love her. Ever since little Sinead was born. Between you and me, I think it was an accident. She wouldn’t take the pill, you see? And I know you fellers…” She waved a finger at me. “You don’t like the condoms.” She turned back to Dehan. “They say they can’t feel anything. Well, I mean, what’s to feel? But all the same, that’s what most fellers say, according to Mo. I wouldn’t know. I always took the pill. Tony, that was my husband, God rest him, he insisted on it. He was awful demanding. An Italian.” She turned back to me. “Italians are awful passionate, you know. No offense.” She smiled and reached out a hand to touch my knee.

“Mel, tell us about Kath’s depression.”

“Well, that’s what I’m saying! I don’t think she was ready to have a baby. Of course, when I was young, we had no time to get depressed, but nowadays it’s different, isn’t it? And after little Sinead was born, didn’t poor Kath get awful low.”

Dehan sipped and asked, “How did that affect her relationship with Mo?”

“Well, it wasn’t ideal, was it? But then, when is marriage ideal? You know, marriage was not intended to be a magic panacea for happiness, was it?” She turned to me as though I might want to answer. “It was intended to be a partnership, and like all partnerships, there will be good and bad times. But, God love’em both, things were not easy for them.”

“How’s that?”

“Poor Mo was working construction. Him and Isaac both. And just after Sinead was born, didn’t the fecking foreman go and fire Mo, with a newborn baby at home an’ all. He looked everywhere for work, but God bless the boy, hard as he looked, he couldn’t find a thing. But even with that, the two of them were inseparable. They just doted on each other. Did everything together, went everywhere together…”

Dehan raised an eyebrow. “Except Colorado.” Mel looked surprised, but Dehan pressed on. “What’s the Colorado connection, Mel? It’s an awful long way to go and find a husband.”

Mel smiled and sighed. “And isn’t that the truth! It was Tony, my husband. He was Italian, like I say, and he was crazy about the westerns! Don’t they call them spaghetti westerns because the Italians love’m so much? Well! He couldn’t get enough of the damn things! So when the girls were small we used to go on holiday to ‘cowboy country’. He worked all the hours that God sent and he made a decent living for us. But he