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

so, she wouldn’t admit it unless she was planning to kill her as well.

“Look, Amy. I don’t know what you’re saying. But if you killed him, you should talk to the police. They’d understand. He was a bad man. Life with him must have been no picnic. You’d get off.”

Tears formed in Amy’s eyes. She opened her purse and pulled out a handgun. “That’s where you’re wrong, Tina. It was a picnic. He was sweet and worked hard and loved Sadie. I know he could never do what you say he did. Never. I knew he was up to something when he started staying late, disappearing on the weekend. I got the letter, and right away I knew it was true. Then I found the purse. See, he never forgot you.”

Tina backed into the garage, trying to think. What letter was she talking about? “Amy, you can’t shoot me. Don’t be ridiculous. My dad could be back any minute. The police know something is up. Sergeant Ames—”

“Shoot you? I’m not going to shoot you. Way too messy and noisy. Now get in the car. Here, I’ll even let you drive”

“Sergeant Ames? Tina’s not here. I don’t understand it. The bay doors are open, and the trouble lamp she was using for an engine repair is still on inside the car. I’ve looked all over. She didn’t even take her jacket.”

“Don’t move. Stay by the phone in case she calls. We’re coming right out.”

Ames hung up the phone, his hand shaking, and then picked it up again, asking O’Brien to put him through to the Watts house. A woman answered.

“Mrs. Watts?” He wanted to be relieved, but he already knew it wasn’t her.

“No, this is her mother. I’m looking after Sadie, but Amy should have been home long before now. I was wondering if she had an accident or something. Maybe I should call the police.”

“This is the police. Where did she say she was going?”

“Just into town to get groceries, but—”

“Into town,” he said, “in what?” Ames felt his chestcompress.

“In the car. She said you finally gave it back. And, well, the thing is . . . it’s just . . .”

“What is it?” Ames asked impatiently. This was mad-dening.

“Well, I went up to her room to get something and all the drawers were pulled out and most of her clothes were gone. I’m worried that she . . . I mean, she hasn’t been the same since Barney died. What if she ran away or something? I can’t look after Sadie on my own.”

“Terrell!” Ames bellowed, hurtling down the stairs.

Terrell was up and by the door, pulling his cap on.

“Keys!” Ames shouted. “O’Brien. Alert all the local rcmp detachments. We’re looking for a dark green 1940 Chevrolet coupe, one, or possibly two, women.”

“Sarge,” said O’Brien briskly, picking up the phone.

Ames was almost out the door, when he turned again. “And get a warrant to search the Watts house. Get two of the boys out there, first road going up the hill after Willow Point. House at the top. Ransack the place looking for any kind of poison, bottles of something, rat killer, bleach, alcohol, you name it. Outbuildings. Everything.”

O’Brien nodded and then turned back to the phone.

“It was that damn curly blond hair,” Ames said, running his hand through his own hair. The ferry had been on the Nelson side, so they were now on the short ride across, the ferry engine thrumming underneath them. The icy rain of the last couple of days had turned to a steadily falling icy snow. “Curly hair buying clothes, curly hair hitchhiking, curly hair in the car, and then the purse, which Tina said she lost the night Watts assaulted her. It was Amy Watts in some sort of wig, I’m sure of it. What I don’t understand is why she fixated on Tina. After all, he seemed to be up to his usual trick of going after high-school girls.”

“Turn up here,” Amy commanded, leaning forward, trying to see up the little road she wanted them to take. She waved the gun toward an ascending turnoff.

Tina made the sharp turn up the hill, hardly daring to believe her luck. Amy must not know that King’s Cove was hidden among the trees on this hillside.

Amy was leaning forward, looking at the options. As Tina started to turn up toward the church, Amy saw the steeple. “No. Damn! Go this way!”

Tina pulled the wheel sharply to straighten the car and go where she was directed. She felt her heart freeze. This road was barely wide enough for one vehicle—rutted, winding, and icy, it climbed steadily uphill. Worse, she had no idea where it would take them. Perhaps to some isolated place where Tina could carry out whatever plan she had. Tina, whose mind had been whirring, tried to adjust to the new terrain, desperately trying to think of how to get away or use the small wrench she had in the back pocket of her coveralls.

If Amy’s idea was to shoot her in the close quarters of the car, she might be able to wrestle the gun away before she got the shot off, though those were very long odds. Amy held the gun on her, not shifting it even for a moment. If she yanked the steering wheel hard at one of the corners, she might unsettle her, but it was dangerous gambit on this narrow bit of slippery road because a steep gully dropped precipitously through underbrush down toward a creek fifteen feet below.

Everything happened at once. Out of the corner of her eye, Tina saw Amy reach into her handbag with a gloved hand and pull out a thickly folded men’s handkerchief that filled the car with a choking smell, and at the same instant, as they turned a corner, a tractor loomed up, coming right at them. Tina had no time to do anything except slam on the brakes, but the tractor’s driver—an old man with a