Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

I thanked him and left, wondering if he had been hinting at something. I got back to my desk, dropped into my chair, and dialed Peter Smith’s number. It rang a couple of times before he answered.

“Peter Smith speaking.”

“Mr. Smith, Detective John Stone here.”

A small sigh. “Detective Stone, how can I help you now?”

“Mr. Smith, our investigation is turning up quite a lot of disturbing evidence. There has been a fresh murder, and a number of notes have been received threatening further killings. We have reason to believe that you and your wife may be at risk, and we would like you to come in to the station for a talk. If possible, this afternoon.”

“Both of us?”

“No, for now just you, Mr. Smith. But we will have a car keeping an eye on your house to make sure your wife is safe.”

“I see…” He hesitated. “Very well, I can be there in an hour.”

“That would be fine. We’d be very grateful. Are you at home now?”

“Yes, I work mainly from home. Why?”

“We’ll have a car there before you leave.”

I spoke to the desk sergeant and a couple of colleagues, and they agreed to keep him there, supplied with coffee, as long as they could. Dehan arrived and we set out for Revere Avenue.

We parked up the road, out of sight. We watched him come out with quick, efficient steps, get into his car, and drive away. Then we got out, walked across the wet blacktop, and climbed the steps to the Smiths’ door. Jenny opened the door and looked surprised.

“Oh! He’s just gone…”

I smiled. “We’ll catch up with him. There were just a couple of questions we wanted to ask you, in fact. May we come in?”

She hesitated and Dehan jumped up and down with knock-knees and grinning. “Can I use your toilet? It’s this rain!”

Jenny got flustered and said, “Yes! Yes of course, come in!”

And we were in.

While Dehan skipped up the stairs to the bathroom, I smiled at Jenny in what I hoped was a fatherly way.

“We are very concerned for your safety, Jenny. And it is extremely important for us to make sure that both you and Peter are eliminated from any suspicion…”

“Suspicion? Us?”

I sighed and shrugged. “There are some very unscrupulous defense attorneys out there who will do anything to get their clients off. So I hope you will cooperate fully with us in preempting any ploys they may try.”

She looked suitably horrified and said, “Why, yes! Of course! How can I help?”

I thought about it a moment and asked, “What kind of shoes does your husband wear?”

“Shoes?” She gave a small laugh. “Well, as you ask, he has rather particular taste. He always says that however badly dressed a man is, you can always tell a gentleman by his shoes.”

“How very true.”

“So he has his shoes made especially for him in Spain, of all places. I tell him we have very good shoemakers here in the States. But he gets cross. These he says are the best, handmade from Spanish leather. So that’s what he wears.”

“I imagine he buys them online. What is the name of the company?”

“Yes, that’s right. Gallardo. But what has this to do…?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “I just happened to notice the other day what excellent shoes he had, and thought I’d ask. But surely he doesn’t wear them in this terrible weather?”

“Oh, they are quite waterproof!”

“Would you think me an awful bore if I asked to see them? I am thinking of buying some good shoes myself, and…”

You could tell she was uncomfortable, but she had lived her entire life without ever learning to say no, and she wasn’t about to start now. So she rose and went upstairs and I, quite shamelessly, followed her into their bedroom.

She stood in the middle of the floor saying, “I really don’t think…” But as she said it, Dehan stepped in from the toilet and I pointed to the wardrobe. “Are they in there?”

“Yes, but…”

“Thank you, Jenny. We’ll leave it just as it was.”

There were three pairs of Oxford brogues. They were all clean. I hunkered down and examined them. The tread pattern fit. I put them all back as I had found them. I asked her, “Are any of these the ones he was wearing five nights ago?”

She stammered. “He rotates them, a new pair every day, from left to right.”

I did a quick calculation and decided he would have been wearing the ones on the far left. I picked them up and smelled the soles. Then I put them back.

I stood and closed the wardrobe. “Are you a heavy sleeper, Mrs. Smith?”

“No, I sleep very badly. That’s why Peter insists that I take a tablet every night.”

“So six nights ago, if Peter had got up during the night, you would not have noticed?”

“No, but why on Earth would he have got up?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. You have been very helpful. We had better get after Peter, or we’ll miss him.”

Sixteen

She watched us leave, with her hands clenched in front of her womb. The sky was turning black, and thunder rolled far off. A few fat drops fell as we climbed into the Jag and pulled away, and Dehan swore extensively in three languages. I paid no attention because my brain was busy putting all the pieces together.

Finally she looked at me as though she was going to hit me. “Have you any idea what is going on? Does this make any sense to you at all? Are they? Are they accomplices? Are they in this together?”

I was still ignoring her, but I said, “I’ll get another note this evening or tonight. Probably