Too Much at Stake Read Online Free

around dead bodies. He shuddered and then smiled, reminding himself that she was equally amazed by his work—that he could deal with messy divorces and court cases and sleep through the night was beyond her comprehension.
    "Car accident?" he asked, peering over his paper. "Nope," Ruth called from the hall as she put on her boots and picked up her bag. "Where is my rain hat?"
    "I think it's in the front closet. Let me get it for you." Joel left his paper regretfully. It was such a luxury to read it all the way through on a Sunday afternoon. He turned to their dog that had gotten up from under the table. "Come on, Sydney, let's get Mom's hat, and then I'll take you for that walk she promised you."
    The dog wagged his tail, as if he knew exactly what Joel had said, and put in a bark for good measure. Joel retrieved Ruth's hat and brought it to her as she opened the back door to leave.
    "We have film society movie night at Stage North," he reminded her, "and we're signed up to sell tickets and make popcorn."
    She smiled at him. "Better plan on going on your own. This one is a body at the Tent. Can you believe it?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll call. Love you." Out the door she went, her mind already the twenty-five miles down the road and an infinity away from her home life.
    Joel grabbed his jacket and stepped out onto the porch, with Sydney close on his heels. He pulled the door closed, and they set off on their walk.
Maybe I'll call Bob to help me at Stage North,
he thought. "Come on, Syd, get a move on!"

    Ruth took a deep breath, like an actress coming onto the stage, and stepped into the barn at the bottom of the ski hill. She willed herself to focus. Just inside the barn door, she stopped, her razor-sharp mind taking in the whole scene. The police had already set up bright lights. Two uniformed officers, their breath visible in the chilly barn, were standing just inside the door, waiting for her.
    Ruth stuffed her driving gloves into her coat pocket as she mentally divided the room into sections. The door area had a dirt floor, trampled by many volunteers' feet. To the left, shelves were filled with pile upon pile of dusty props and costumes, reminding her of a Victorian attic, full of forgotten treasures. To her right, rolls of canvases were left where they had been when the workers had been forced to stop. Beside them sat a wooden chair, as if waiting for an occupant. And there, on the ground among the canvases, was the body.
    "Somebody have a heart attack putting up the Tent, Sal?" she asked as she shook the young deputy's hand. Even as she asked, Ruth realized that couldn't be the case. For one thing, there was no emergency medical unit on the scene, and for another, she knew that musty smell. Violent death, even in the cold, had its own aroma, and she recognized it in the barn.
    Sal shook his head. "No, this one's been here a while. But that's your job. You tell me." He crossed his arms.
    "Well, now, did you find it in among these canvases? Don't give me that look," she added after noticing Sal's defiant posture. "I know that you know enough not to move a body. Let's see what I can give you. I'm not a character in one of those detective novels Pat and Deb threaten to write—you know, someone who has all the answers—but I'll give you what I can now. The rest you'll have to wait for until the autopsy."
    Ruth set down her bag, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and dabbed some Vicks into her nose. "But thanks for the warning about how long the body's been here. Let the games begin." She took a few cautious steps toward the body, carefully watching where she walked through the crime scene area. "It looks like you've started without me," she said, glancing disapprovingly at Sal over her glasses.
    Sal raised his hands, as if to ward off her judgmental look. "Now, Ruth, we haven't touched the body, except for when they first found it. LeSeur was one of the volunteers on the scene, if you can believe it." He