Quiet as the Grave

“Come on, Gav. What did I tell you?”

Gavin sighed. “You told me violence is for stupid people. You said smart people think their way out of trouble. But Dad, this guy is soooo—”

“Gavin, think it through. This guy believes we’re the kind of people who would hurt other people. Want to make him right?”

“No, but—”

“Then let’s go be civilized. Let’s watch Spencer open his presents, and we can drive straight home after that, okay?”

Gavin scuffed the ground with one heel. “Okay,” he said reluctantly.

Mike stood. He gave his son a forward nudge and Gavin started moving. Matthew went with the boy, his hand on his shoulder for moral support. Mike turned to Suzie. “Thanks,” he said. “That was a very creative diversionary tactic.”

“No problem,” she said. “I’ve always been willing to make a fool of myself for a good cause.”

He gave her a long look, taking her in from head to toe. She caught herself fiddling with the ribbons on her top, checking their status. Damn it, was she going to start blushing all over again?

“Oh, and by the way…” He paused.

“What?”

She wondered whether he might be going to ask her why she’d shown up at a Firefly Glen party, after all these years. She had her answer ready. Because she wanted to, that’s why. Because, now that she’d seen him once, she’d decided it was stupid to go on avoiding him.

But he didn’t ask. Three, four, five seconds ticked by.

She tilted her head. “By the way…what?”

He reached out and tugged lightly on the tip of a red ribbon.

He smiled. “Nice shirt.”

AS MARSTON COUNTY District Attorney Keith Quigley pulled his Audi up to the squad car parked in front of Summer House, he could see right away that the policeman behind the wheel was half-asleep.

He idled his engine for at least thirty seconds, waiting for the officer to notice him. Nothing. Fifty murderers could have danced across this road in top hats, and Officer—was it deLuca?—wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

Finally he tapped lightly on his horn. DeLuca jerked to attention, bumping his elbow on the edge of the window.

“Sir!” The cop, who probably was no more than about twenty-five, squeezed his eyes, trying to make them track in the same direction. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there.”

Keith smiled, but he kept it cool. “Good thing we don’t believe Frome is a flight risk,” he observed.

The officer flushed, opened his mouth as if to make a defensive comment, then closed it. DeLuca didn’t report to Keith, not technically. But he reported to the sheriff, who knew better than to annoy the D.A. Keith didn’t believe in keeping a “hands off” policy in his investigations—especially murders. He got involved as soon as he had a body, and he stayed involved until he got a conviction.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.