For Sale in Palm Springs: The Henry Wright Mystery Series Read Online Free

lunch at the hotel
restaurant, and intended to go right out.

    Having filled their stomachs
on the tasty food, Henry had an Oriental chicken salad, and Irma
had a tri-tip sandwich. They were ready to explore the Strip and
walked towards the exit through the noisy casino with its clanging
machines and flashing lights. When they were almost at the door,
Irma stopped, said the lunch didn’t agree with her and she said she
wanted to go back to the room to lie down. Henry offered to go
upstairs with her, but Irma insisted that he enjoy himself looking
around the Casino, maybe he could drop a few quarters into one of
those poker machines.

    When he returned to the room
after an hour to check to see how she was feeling, Irma was dead on
the floor of their bathroom. The coroner told Henry later that Irma
had suffered a massive heart attack and that she had been dead
before she hit the floor.

    The six months after Irma’s
death were a blur. Henry could barely remember them, as he dug for
socks that matched in his dresser drawer. First, there was Irma’s
funeral; the suddenness of her death was a shock to everyone, not
just Henry, but especially to their daughter Claire. Within three
months of the funeral was his retirement from the Eagle River
police department and what should have been a happy occasion was
very depressing for Henry. He woke up in their house in Eagle River
alone every morning and had no place to go.

    He decided to continue with
the long planned sale of his and Irma’s house. Henry couldn’t stand
to be in that house since everything in it reminded him of Irma.
Henry also realized that he could never live in Las Vegas without
thinking of poor Irma in that hotel bathroom. He would probably
never visit Las Vegas again; he hadn’t even been able to go into
the Indian casinos since moving to Palm Springs.

    At the invitation of his
friend Wayne Johnson, Henry had moved here, over his daughter
Claire’s objections. Claire preferred that he stay in Wisconsin now
that he was alone, she and her husband lived in Chicago, and she
thought it would be better if he remained closer by.

    Yes, those six months were a
blur all right; he remembered how they went by in the blink of an
eye. Irma’s death and funeral, his retirement, the sale of their
house and his move west happened one on top of the other. At this
point, he was very happy to be here in Palm Springs with its desert
climate. There was no snow here, no snowmobile riders getting lost
in the woods, no police department to manage, and no bad guys to
lock up. He glanced at the wedding ring he still wore, even though
there was no Irma in Palm Springs, it was a lot better to be
retired here than shoveling snow at their old house in Eagle River,
Wisconsin.

    He walked out of the kitchen
door into the garage, got into his Mercury Grand Marquis, backed
out, and headed towards Sherman’s Deli on Tahquitz Canyon Drive. He
liked the big car; it was similar to the Crown Victoria police
cruisers he spent many years driving. This car was a little more
upscale, with nice leather upholstery and a stereo system with a CD
player and who knows how many speakers. What he really liked was
that the controls were very the same as the police specials and
Henry hated looking for the light switch or the cruise control in
an unfamiliar car.

    He pulled into the parking
lot at Sherman’s Deli and Bakery and headed inside. Wayne was
already at their usual table near the back as Henry walked into the
restaurant, his coffee half gone, and what used to be a donut was
now just crumbs and frosting that Wayne was carefully licking off
his fingers.

    “ G’morning Duke, doesn’t
look real proper for the Chief to be licking his fingers like
that.” Henry said using Wayne’s nickname. It seemed like cops
always gave each other nicknames, what better moniker for a cop
named Wayne Johnson than Duke? “Captain, not Chief.” Wayne said
licking the last of the frosting off his thumb as he motioned