Dear Killer (Marley Clark Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

might have rowed in the same sad boat. But Janie was
determined to rescue me from my tendency to hibernate.
    “Okay. Let’s try another tack,” the deputy said. “The chief
said you could give me a rundown on the island’s shadier characters. Could Stew
have crossed one of them?”
    “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone vicious enough to be a
murderer. And I hate to repeat rumors. They flourish like weeds on Dear.
Ninety-percent are pure baloney or plain malicious.”
    Braden looked me in the eye. “Look, I promise to keep my
mouth shut. I grew up in a small town. If you dig in the local dirt, you find
worms. But I’ve never come across a weirder murder, and I need all the help I
can get.”
    The man’s honest admission of his clueless state had
definite appeal. Unfortunately I inhabited the same unaware zip code. “Okay,
get ready for a scintillating busman’s tour of Dear, complete with gossip
commentary.
    “Since you’ve met the two youngest members of the household,
let’s start with the Cuthberts.”
    ***
    Sitting at the southern terminus of Dear Drive, the
manicured lawns of the Cuthbert estate practically oozed money. The green
played against a backdrop of vivid blue sea and white-hot dunes.
    After we parked, Braden let out an appreciative whistle at
the spectacular home that straddled a trio of ocean lots. “Wow. This little
getaway cost some serious change.”
    The elegant exterior featured acres of bronzed glass with
columns of muted tabby—crushed seashells imprisoned in a web of mortar.
    “Grace Cuthbert built it for four million,” I said as we
climbed out of the car. “Bet it’s worth twice as much now.”
    “So why are we here? Is there a skeleton in her closet?”
    “Well, it’s gospel—not gossip—that Grace is an alcoholic.
We’ve met a handful of times, once when I caught her twins cruising the island
at four a.m. Grace lives with Hugh Wells, a former Las Vegas lounge lizard,
reputed to have mob connections. But even if Hugh had wise guy contacts in the
past, he appears to be enjoying early retirement courtesy of Grace’s largesse.”
    Braden frowned. “The murder doesn’t have a mob signature.
Still, I’ll check him out.”
    “Chief Dixon worries more about Grace’s sons than her
lover,” I added. “They’re a two-headed plague. Thank heaven they’re corralled
in a boarding school most of the year. They’re on spring break now.”
    “Are they screwed up enough to murder someone?”
    “No.” I didn’t need to think about my response. “They’re
just obnoxious punks. A surplus of hormones and cash.”
    “How would Stew have known these folks?”
    “He wasn’t exactly a friend of the family,” I replied,
“though he fished with Hugh occasionally and appraised property for the
Cuthbert trust. Grace has lots of investments. She fronted twenty million to
finance the island’s newest development, Beach West.”
    “No kidding. What’s the lady worth?”
    “Gossips claim $500 million. Inherited. Her family holds
thousands of shares of Leapgene. Her great-grandfather founded the company.”
    Braden scuffed at some sand in the rutted cul de sac. His
bunched eyebrows suggested puzzlement. “Do many multi-millionaires hang their
hats here? I don’t mean to insult, but Dear Island doesn’t look, well…ritzy
enough.”
    “Few fulltime residents are truly wealthy, though more and
more second homeowners qualify. Arthur Zantoc, the famous artist, hibernates
here, but with four ex-wives, he probably has less disposable income than I
do.”
    The timbre of Braden’s laugh hinted that he might be making
alimony payments. Hmm, no wedding band. Too bad I’m not ten years younger and
hot to trot. Oh well, it was nice to enjoy a baritone laugh.
    While I knew he was too young for me, I felt certain
Janie would love to make Braden’s acquaintance. When it came to dating, my
neighbor, who was actually a month older than me, refused to discriminate on
any basis—race, creed,