Curiosity Didn't Kill the Cat Read Online Free

tomorrow. Then I may go into Portland and stay with Jane and her husband for a while. I don’t know. I might prefer to be alone.”
    She paused, and Conan waited, reading the making of a troubled decision in her controlled features; a decision that had nothing to do with Portland or Holliday Beach.
    For a while, she seemed unaware of him, taking another swallow of brandy, tasting it as if she were searching for a flavor that wasn’t there. Finally, she put the glass on the table with a decisive gesture and turned to face him, something contained and tense in her posture.
    “I had a specific purpose in coming here this morning. There’s a sign outside the bookshop that says ‘Conan Flagg— Consultant .’”
    He laughed, a little surprised at the turn of the conversation, and a little uncomfortable with it.
    “Nel, you know good and well I added that ‘consultant’ because I was tired of people asking me to look up information for them—gratis. It’s purely accidental that it became a bona fide business. You should know better than to take that sign too seriously.”
    “But I am taking it seriously.”
    He paused, stopped by the cool intensity of her voice.
    “All right, Nel.”
    “And I…I want to consult you. I want to hire you.”
    “Hire me? Whatever for?”
    “I—” She faltered, but only briefly. “I know all this will sound like the maunderings of a grief-stricken old woman. I’ve been told as much, in more or less polite terms, several times in the last few hours. But I’m quite in control of myself, and I’m not sure I could honestly be called grief-stricken. I didn’t love my husband, Conan, but we…we understood each other.” She paused and crushed out her half-smoked cigarette, her mouth unnaturally tight. Then she leaned back and carefully folded her hands together.
    “Whatever I felt for my husband, he was, in his own way, a good man. Even if he weren’t, I don’t think it right or just that his murderer should go unpunished.”
    * * *
    Conan absorbed this in silence, allowing himself little outward indication of surprise. But he felt a chill weight gathering under his ribs.
    Murder.
    Hysteria might have been responsible for that word last night. But not now. He frowned and tapped his cigarette against the ashtray.
    “Nel, I don’t understand.”
    She replied in the same calm, contained tone.
    “I think my husband was murdered, but I have no proof. You’ve made a business, of sorts, of finding the answers to other people’s questions, and I have a question. I want to know what happened last night. I want to know who killed my husband and why. I’m quite able to pay for your services.”
    He waved the last statement aside irritably.
    “Your ability to pay for my services is the least of my concerns.”
    For a short time he was silent, considering Harold Jeffries’ death, the man himself. And Nel.
    Murder.
    The day was out of joint, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to set it right.
    “Nel, I’ve known you for a long time—”
    “And you think perhaps the shock has been too much? I’ve flipped my wig?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
    “No. What I was going to say, is that I’ve never known you to be unreasonable or illogical. I don’t think you’ve…flipped your wig. But if you have good reason to think your husband was murdered—and I’m assuming you do—why come to me? If you’re right, this is something for the police.”
    One hand went to her forehead to push a strand of hair back, and her eyes closed briefly.
    “Don’t you think that was my first thought? Yes , I talked to the police. Of course, I didn’t expect much from the local police. Chief Rose was too busy trying to sober up last night to pay much attention to me.”
    Conan gave a short, caustic laugh. “As usual.”
    “I also talked to the State Police and the County Sheriff’s office. All I could get from anyone was that I should talk to the local police. It wasn’t a