Hardy 11 - Suspect, The Read Online Free Page B

nothing of the size and location of the house itself—probably four to six million dollars in real estate and furnishings alone. "So she felt she was carrying you financially, was that it? Did she resent that?"
    Gorman paused. "I don't know what she felt anymore, Inspector. I didn't think she was anywhere near asking me for a divorce until Friday, but then she did. I mean, after Kym left for school, we both knew there'd be ... adjustments. But here it's only been a couple of weeks and that's it. It's all over, like we never had anything together, like everything we'd ever done was just a fucking stupid charade." He stopped abruptly, then started again more calmly. "She was just waiting for Kym to go. After that, there wasn't any reason for us to stay together."
    "No discussion?"
    "More like an announcement. 'My life with you is over. Do whatever you want. You're nothing to me.' "
    "That bother you?"
    "No. I fucking loved it. What do you think? Did it bother me? Give me a break, Inspector."
    "Taking that as a yes, then."
    Gorman's eyes narrowed. He visibly reined himself in. "You don't know how hard I tried to keep it together. And she wasn't easy, let me tell you. She was never easy the last few years. You know what that's been like? And then hearing that you're a nonentity, that her world is just so much more important than yours, more financially rewarding, more everything. How's that make me feel? Like a piece of shit. Like a worthless piece of shit."
    Something was going on behind Juhle in the living room, and suddenly Gorman straightened all the way up. "Hey! Wait a minute! What are you doing?" Boosting himself up from the counter, he was across the kitchen before Juhle could even stand. In the middle of the living room, the medical examiner's assistants with the gurney and its body bag had stopped at the interruption. "What are you doing?" Gorman demanded again.
    Juhle stepped in front of him. "They're taking the body downtown, sir. The medical examiner is going to need to do an autopsy, then . . ."
    "You mean he's going to cut her up?"
    "To determine the exact cause of death, yes."
    "But . . ." Gorman turned from Juhle to the men pushing the gurney, then back to the inspector, a low-wattage panic now evident in his eyes. "Why do you have to do that? I told you she had pills upstairs. If she'd been drinking and then got in the hot tub . . ."
    "That's one way it might have happened," Juhle said, "yes."
    "Well, what else?"
    "She might have slipped getting into the tub. There's a good-sized bump on her head."
    This news seemed to confuse Gorman, but he shook his reaction off. "That doesn't matter. What matters is she's dead! If she killed herself or it was an accident, what difference does it make?" He brought a hand back to his face, rubbed at the birthmark. "Jesus Christ, this is unbelievable. She's just now dead. It's only been a few hours. Don't you understand that? You don't have to cut her up. It won't make any difference."
    Juhle wondered if Gorman could in fact be so clueless, or if this was some kind of an act. Every schoolchild knew that homicide victims got autopsied. Juhle had been playing his role as understanding cop comforting a victim’s relative up until now, but this was the time to bring some reality into the discussion. "Mr. Gorman," he said, "surely you realize it makes a difference if somebody killed her."
    Gorman opened his mouth and started to say something, then decided not to. His shoulders sagged, he shook his head from side to side. "God help us," he said.

3
     
    After getting up at dawn and hiking out from Tamarack Lake, Gina Roake drove to her Pleasant Street condominium on Nob Hill in under four hours. By noon, she had unpacked and stowed her gear, showered, and changed into her work clothes—a light mauve business suit and black low heels.
    As she came out the doors onto the sidewalk in front of her building, Gina discovered that, somewhat to her surprise, she wasn't inclined to go