Free A Knife to Remember by Jill Churchill

"Were the speakers both men?"
    “I'm not sure. I thought they were, but I couldn't be positive. They were whispering."
    “And you could hear them?"
    “Whispering loudly," Jane said, feeling foolish. It
was
his job to pick holes in her story, but he didn't have to be so good at it. She was sure he was picturing her in the undignified position of having her ear glued to the back of the set, which was true.
    “Okay. What about the way they spoke. I mean the grammar. Were they both educated sounding? Could you discern any accent? Any speech impediment?”
    Jane considered carefully. "No, there was nothing remarkable in any way. Normal language. No glaring errors. No lisp or anything like that.”
    He asked a few more questions about the time of day she heard them, the duration of the conversation, and her proximity to the speakers, then dismissed the secretary. He walked over and stared out the back window for a minute. "These are the oddest people. Look at them. Everybody looks busy, but you can't tell exactly what any of them are doing. And they just keep doing it. Murder doesn't seem to faze them. I like for people to be taken aback by death. At least for a little while.”
    Mel seldom spoke seriously about his job and Jane was surprised. She and Shelley waited for him to go on, but instead he turned back to them and smiled. "You got your kitchen cleaned up, didn't you?"
    “Not really," Jane admitted. "I just shoved most of the mess out of sight. I'll sort it out later and get things back to their proper places. Anybody who tries to use the guest bathroom is in for a horrible shock."
    “Anything missing?" Mel asked.
    “Who could tell? I doubt it. Mel, you haven't told us… how was Jake killed?"
    “Stabbed. And the knife was jammed out of sight under the metal railing to the trailer. Blade outward. That's how the Kowalski kid cut his hand — if he's telling the truth."
    “Mel, you don't suspect him!" Jane exclaimed. "He's a bone-deep nice kid."
    “You know him? Well?"
    “Well enough. I only met him once, but he was nice to my cats. Stop giving me that look! I know it sounds stupid, but a person who is gentle and considerate to animals can't be a murderer."
    “No? I was on a case once where the mass murderer fed his victims to his dogs."
    “Oh, please—" Shelley said, turning away.
    “Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'll take note of your evaluation of Butch Kowalski, Jane. Now, I have an important question for you.”
    He picked up the big manila envelope he'd put on the coffee table when he came in. He opened the end of it and very carefully pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was a blood-encrusted knife. "I'm sorry, Jane, but you must look carefully at this. Have you ever seen this knife before?”
    Jane didn't answer for a long moment. Not because she didn't know the answer, but because she hated having to say it. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, "Yes, it's mine.”
     
    10
     
    “How can you be so sure?" Mel asked. He sounded as if he was giving her every opportunity to change her mind.
    Jane would have loved to take the admission back, but couldn't. "The kids gave me the set last Christmas. There are four and they go into a sort of chopping block thing. I accidentally set this one on a hot burner and part of the handle melted a little. See those two burner marks? And then Mike took it to his room to open a box and it hung around up there and got some green model airplane paint right where the blade fits into the handle. You can see a little of it."
    “Are you okay, Jane?" Shelley asked.
    “Yes. Just a little woozy feeling. Mel, please put it away."
    “Sure. I'm sorry. You hadn't missed it when you cleaned up the mess in your kitchen?"
    “No, why should I? I wasn't taking inventory and haven't even finished cleaning up. And even if I had noticed it wasn't in the block with the others, I'd have just assumed it was in the dishwasher or with the stuff I shoved into the guest bath."
    “Do you