Free The Easter Egg Murder by Patricia Smith Wood Page B

had worked quickly, delivering his report that very afternoon.
    Philip switched on the recorder and dictated for the next forty-five minutes. When he was done, he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and placed the cassette in a box with others like it. He removed a large document folder from the drawer. He selected some documents from the folder and transferred them to a brown 9 by 12 envelope. He sealed it and stared at it, wondering again if this was the right thing to do.
    He thought about the people who had been involved and those who might still be affected by his decision. But only one course of action satisfied his conscience. He knew at least one person wanted to stop him. Maybe more than one, but he would not be swayed by fear. He picked up his pen and wrote across the sealed flap, “To Be Opened In The Event Of My Death.”
    There were several photographs on the walls of his sanctuary, mostly scenes of landmarks such as the Capitol and the Lincoln Memorial and of the Senator shaking hands with well-known figures, including Presidents Nixon, Carter, Reagan and the first President Bush. He removed one picture and loosened its back. He slipped the brown envelope between the photo and its backing.
    He e xited the safe room, secured it and sat at his big walnut desk. As he wrote a note for Ginger, Ramona knocked softly on the library door. “I’m leaving now, Senator. Your dinner is on the table. Have a pleasant evening.”
    He called back, “Come in, Ramona. I’d li ke you to do something for me.”
    He clipped the note to another item, put them in a stamped envelope and handed it to Ramona. “Would you mind dropping this off at the post office for me on your way home?”
    “Of course, Sir. No trouble at all. Will there be anything else?”
    “No, thank you, Ramona. I’ll see you in the morning.”

18
     
     
    Harrie drained her wine glass. Steve refilled it.
    “Whoa there ,” said Harrie. “I still have to drive home, you know!”
    “We could always drive you instead,” he shot back jovially.
    Ginger shook her head. “I think my husband is trying to render you incapable of driving so you’ll be forced to stay with us tonight.”
    Steve raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. Then his smile faded, and he became serious. “I think it’s a good idea for you to change your routine a bit, Harrie. What would it hurt if you stayed here tonight?”
    Harrie looked puzzled. “I can’t stay here tonight. I have to get home and feed Tuptim.”
    Steve sighed. “I’m worried about you.” He shifted his gaze to include Ginger and said, “I’m worried about both of you. This thing with Nick calling today is more than a little strange, and the timing is odd, don’t you think?”
    Harrie looked at Ginger, who shrugged, and then back at Steve. “Well, I definitely think it’s odd for Nick to call but I don’t get what you mean about the timing.” Harrie had told them about her trip back from Lowe’s that afternoon and the man who seemed to be watching her in his side mirror. She didn’t see any connection.
    “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve seen a suspicious automobile several times in the last few days. Now, after – what, ten years? twelve? – Nick calls you.”
    Harrie held up a hand. “It’s been thirteen years, but who’s counting? ”
    “ My point is you got the divorce by default. He never even responded to the notification. He literally dropped out of sight. So suddenly, it’s urgent for him to speak with you? Call me cynical if you want, but it’s too much of a coincidence. And I haven’t been able to find out anything about why he would be back.”
    Ginger sat quietly, listening to the conversation . Harrie hoped her friend would join her protest against Steve’s unfounded concern. But Ginger said, “I wasn’t going to tell you this. It seemed silly to get you all upset for nothing. Except now . . .”
    A chill crept up Harrie’s spine. An image flashed into her mind,