Justice Done Read Online Free

Coming in, struck the gate that would have been on his left, scraping the left fender on the side of the gate nearest the pillar. Leaving, hit that same gate, which was now on his right, damaging the right fender. That damage is on the other end of the gate, the part that is farthest from the pillar.”
    â€œExcellent work, Wishy.”
    Even in the darkness I could see Hanslow blush. “Something else you should know. Driver’s seat is wet.”
    â€œWith, er, what?” the sheriff asked.
    â€œWater, far as I can tell. Not blood—found it by pressing my hand onto the seat as I leaned across to look at the floor. Startled me, but when I looked at my hand, no blood on it. Floor on that side was wet, too. Think it might be water from the quarry. Billy may have gone for a swim. Not sopping wet, just damp.”
    â€œAnything else unusual on the inside of the Hudson?”
    â€œA few small bird feathers in the passenger compartment. Goose or duck, I think. Probably from a pillow or some such. Wouldn’t be riding around with poultry in the vehicle, not an automobile like that. Wouldn’t make sense. Besides, you’d find other things you wouldn’t want inside with you. Birds don’t hold back. Anyway, not much else. Kept it clean.”
    â€œAgain, Wishy, I applaud your ability to observe. This is indeed helpful.”
    Wishy was spared a response by our arrival.
    The Grimes home was an imposing mansion built in the Italian Renaissance style, bordered by Ionic columns that were topped by terraces.
    â€œMuch bigger than the original home,” Wishy said, not in approval.
    I can say without hesitation that Susannah Carfield Grimes was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. That evening—now in the early morning hours—she wore an emerald-green silk dress. Her straight dark hair was cut in a bob. Her butler admitted us and took our hats, but she came down the winding marble staircase almost as soon as we arrived, welcoming us. Nothing in her appearance or her manner indicated that she was affected by grief, by the lateness of the hour, or by the wreckage that is my visage. Her lack of response to my deformities was quite unusual. My looks are typically especially frightening to the beautiful.
    The grand foyer included a fountain and, high overhead, a dome of stained glass. She led us to an elegant little parlor and offered us coffee. “Or whatever you prefer to drink,” she added with a smile. The sheriff looked so bedazzled by her smile that if she next indicated she’d like to turn the house into a speakeasy, I felt sure he might volunteer to serve as a bartender.
    Slye said, “A hot cup of coffee would be most welcome,” and broke the spell.
    She took a seat on a sofa. We took the four remaining chairs. When we were seated and provided with coffee, she said, “You have not told me how Everett died.”
    The sheriff glanced at me.
    â€œA medical condition?” she asked. “But he is not very old.”
    â€œWe cannot be sure at this time,” I said cautiously, “but he appears to have ingested poison.”
    â€œPoison? How awful!” For the first time, she seemed shaken. “Accidentally?”
    â€œI think not,” Slye said.
    The sheriff, perhaps seeing that he had lost control of the situation, began to ask questions. She answered them calmly.
    She had last seen Everett Grimes two days earlier.
    â€œYou were apart for two days? Isn’t that unusual?”
    â€œNo. It is more unusual for us to speak as frequently as we did by telephone over the last two days. Often, I do not see him for weeks at a time, especially if he is at the quarry.” She paused. “Did you not know? I thought rumor kept all my neighbors apprised of our situation.”
    â€œI may have heard some such,” the sheriff said, “but I can’t base an investigation on rumor.”
    â€œLet me confirm what is