The Widow's Mate Read Online Free Page A

until Greg went off to the navy, and they had all been infatuated with Melissa. It was in the hope of getting a glimpse of her that Cy had driven out to St. Hilary’s and parked on the street next to the school and waited. He had learned from Luke that she was back in the parish, living in the family home Luke had turned over to her when he rented a retirement apartment near the Magnificent Mile.
    â€œWhat’s she doing now?”
    â€œShe likes that parish center Father Dowling started. I went there just once. Bunch of old bastards reliving their lives.”
    â€œWhy would Melissa like a center full of seniors?” She was Cy’s age.
    â€œI never did understand that woman.”
    So Cy had driven out there and parked and, sure enough, caught a glimpse of Melissa. She was as beautiful as ever. He immediately recognized the guy she was with, too. Greg Packer. Cy had thought Greg was still in Joliet. He must be the reason Melissa liked the center, but neither of them was in the age group of the people that hung around there. Seeing the two of them invited him to put two and two together in a way all his police training warned against, but he couldn’t help it. Nor could he help thinking of the person missing from that scene, Wally Flanagan.
    *   *   *
    More murders go unsolved than are ever solved, of course, and in Fox River there were investigations that ran into the protective net with which politicians had surrounded the Pianones. If the body in the cement mixer had been anyone other than Wally Flanagan, a possible Pianone connection would have been Cy’s first thought, but that made no sense. Wally had been set free by his father when Luke turned over to him years in advance what he would have inherited. Wally had no interest at all in the cement business that explained all the money he received. So he had bought a membership in a brokerage firm, Kruikshank and Sharpe, and soon became the hotshot of the office. In a few years, he set himself up as an independent financial counselor and went about enriching his clients and adding to his own wealth. During that period, Cy had seen Wally only once, in a Loop bar where he had stopped after checking something out with Chicago homicide. His old friend had exuded prosperity, but what they had in common was the fact that they had been kids together.
    â€œMissie wants to move into the old parish, Cy.” He meant Melissa.
    â€œIt’s changed.”
    â€œOf course it’s changed. Everything changes.” He looked almost glum when he said it. “So what are you doing?”
    Cy told him.
    â€œHoping to last long enough to get your pension? Listen, Cy, let me have a thousand and I’ll get a portfolio started for you. Add regular amounts and I all but guarantee you your retirement will come years sooner and be a helluva lot more comfortable.”
    In those days, the thought of handing over a thousand dollars to start an investment portfolio had all the never-never quality of winning the lottery. Cy told Wally he would think about it.
    â€œDon’t forget, I have a lot of concrete experience.” He punched Cy’s arm to make sure he got the joke.
    That’s when the blonde joined them. She was tall and suited and gorgeous, and only an idiot would doubt that something was going on between the two.
    â€œThis is Sandy,” Wally said. He added, “Another client.”
    Sandy laughed. Cy got out of there. In his line of work, nothing surprised him much, but the idea that the man who had won Melissa would fool around with even a dish like Sandy almost shocked Cy. Of course he remembered the woman when Wally disappeared. During the investigation, he got access to Wally’s office records and identified her. Sandra Bochenski. When he went to her address, a posh apartment house on the North Shore, he learned that she had moved.
    The manager, an officious little guy named Ferret with a cookie-duster