Murder on Lexington Avenue Read Online Free Page A

carefully, but she betrayed nothing else.
    “Who did it?” she asked after a moment, and once again she looked as if she were bracing herself for a blow.
    This was very strange. Family members always wanted to know the details, how did it happen and all that. Mrs. Wooten was oddly uncurious. “We don’t know yet.”
    And once again she looked almost relieved. She drew a breath. “This is all very . . . unpleasant, Mr. . . . What was your name again?”
    “Malloy,” Frank supplied. “Murder usually is, Mrs. Wooten. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
    “What could you possibly want to ask me?” Now she was alarmed, or almost. She’d been trained very well to hide her true feelings, so maybe Frank was just misreading her.
    “Well, for one thing, do you know anyone who might’ve wanted to kill your husband?”
    “Certainly not,” she assured him. “Men like my husband simply do not get themselves murdered. It’s unthinkable!”
    “But not impossible,” Frank pointed out. “And I’m sure you want us to find out who did it and see that he’s punished.”
    Frank might have been sure, but Mrs. Wooten didn’t look sure at all. In fact, she looked extremely doubtful. “Perhaps I will sit down after all,” she decided.
    She moved over to one of the sofas and lowered herself onto it very carefully, as if afraid the slightest jar might shatter her. She did not invite Frank to be seated, however. She wouldn’t want him to think he could stay.
    Frank figured he’d better ask a few more questions while he had the chance. She could dismiss him at any moment, and he wouldn’t dare refuse to leave. A complaint about him from someone like Mrs. Wooten could mean the end of his career. “Do you know who your husband was meeting with today?”
    “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Malloy,” she said coldly.
    “It is if that person killed him,” Frank said, hoping to shock her into cooperation. He’d never seen anyone react like this to news of a spouse’s death.
    She gave him a look that could have cut glass, but she said, “He was meeting with an official from our daughter’s school, but he couldn’t possibly be—”
    “Mr. Higginbotham,” Frank supplied. “Yes, I know. He’s the one who found the . . . found your husband. But he didn’t kill him. Do you know if he was planning to meet with anybody else?”
    “No, I do not. My husband didn’t bother me with details of his business affairs.”
    “And do you know if he was having any kind of trouble with anybody? Maybe somebody had threatened him.”
    “If so, he said nothing of it to me. I told you, I have no idea who might have done this terrible thing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, Mr. Malloy. I’m very upset by your news, as you can imagine.”
    She didn’t exactly look upset to Frank, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. Even if she knew something, she wasn’t going to tell him, at least not right now.
    He was just about to take his leave when the door flew open. They both looked up in surprise to see a young woman burst into the room. Frank’s first impression was of singular beauty—creamy, white skin and raven black hair and a face that looked as if it had been carved by the hand of a master. Her appearance was all the more stunning because her braided hair and her youthful clothes indicated she was a mere schoolgirl.
    “Mother, what’s happened?” she demanded in a startlingly odd voice, not at all the refined accent he had expected from Mrs. Wooten’s daughter. The words were strained, the inflection uneven. “Annie is crying because the police are here.” She gave Frank a scathing glance before turning back to her mother.
    Mrs. Wooten had risen to her feet, and Frank saw that the girl’s appearance had shattered her calm. Suddenly, she looked almost frightened. “Electra, go to your room. I’ll explain later.”
    Electra. The deaf girl. That explained her