Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

they’re going to have to haul the damn things to Jersey. And you know what? Turns out there’s some sad sack son of a friend of his who just started working there last summer.”
    “I can see how something like that could make you pretty angry.”
    “You’re damn right.” Mr. Dupre looked over at the fire and then back at me. “Now, wait a minute. If you think I’m the type of man to kill another, you got another thing coming. Just ask my wife.”
    “Where is your wife, by the way?”
    “Zumba class. She should be back soon, but trust me, punching the man’s lights out, I could do. Killing him? No. No way. Not my style. So what exactly happened to him? The TV news people just said he was murdered. Do you know how?
    “I’m afraid I’ll never forget it. He had one of those very large pickles they served at the supper shoved down his throat. It was horrible.”
    Sid Dupre stared at me for a moment and then roared with laughter. He finally had to pull a handkerchief from his sweater pocket and wipe his eyes. “Humphrey loved those damned things. Ate so many he said one of these days they would kill him.”

 
     
     
Chapter 7
     
     
    I’m fairly certain Humphrey Bryson never expected one of his beloved pickles to be shoved so far back in his mouth that it choked him. But I did have to wonder about the mindset of the killer. Had they known of Humphrey’s love for the pickles or was it just a spur of the moment type of thing? Either way, I didn’t think I’d ever forget the sight of Mr. Bryson on the floor with that thing in his mouth. It truly was gruesome. The pickles had been very tasty but heavy on the vinegar and had caused me to cough a couple of times eating the darned thing. How would it be to have it stuck in your mouth with the juice dripping down your throat and no way to cough it up?
    I was about to leave Mr. Dupre to his merry thoughts of Humphrey Bryson’s demise, when his wife arrived home from her zumba class dressed in a pair of skin tight black exercise pants and a long-sleeved turquoise, also skin-tight top. The color set off her lush, perfectly highlighted grayish-blondish hair and her clear deep blue eyes. The woman was very good looking and I had the distinct feeling she knew it and used it.
    Sid explained the reason for my visit and then excused himself to make some calls.
    “Just awful about Humph. I guess I better change and go over to see how Sophie is doing,” Marie said from her perch on the hearth.
    “Are you and Mrs. Bryson close?” I asked.
    “We went to the same high school. Oh, not the same year, of course. The Brysons are much older than Sid and me, but I grew up here in Pirates Cove and so did Sophie.”
    “How about Mr. Bryson? Did he also grow up here?’
    Marie shook her head then took a sip from a bottle of water. “No. Humphrey grew up in the Chicago area, I think. They met one summer when Sophie went to visit her cousins in Michigan. They were all at the same resort.”
    “Your husband seems to think Humphrey had lots of enemies.”
    Marie Dupre rolled her eyes. “Sid makes a big deal out of nothing. Humphrey was harmless. He just liked to push people’s buttons and Sid’s buttons are easy to push.”
    “He told me he just lost a contract for snow plows because Mr. Bryson cancelled for no reason and gave the business to another company in New Jersey.”
    Marie stretched out her legs in front of her and crossed her ankles. “And that’s why I was dancing with Humphrey last night and letting him get in a few feels. I told him it would make me really happy if Sid got that contract back. You just had to know how to work Humph.”
    “And did it work? Did he tell you he would give your husband the snow plow business?”
    “Well, no. But that was just Humphrey trying to get some more attention. I told him maybe we could get together later and discuss it more. Look,” Marie said, standing up and coming to sit beside me on the sofa. “Humphrey liked to play.