Free Vengeance Is Mine by Joanne Fluke Page A

Steve?
    Dear Mom. Tonight I dated St. Cloud’s most eligible man. First we went to a WinterGame committee meeting. That’s the group of lesbians, homosexuals, and abortionists I told you about. After the meeting we planned to go out for drinks, but one of my gay friends got busted for nearly killing a local man. I had to blackmail the town’s leading lawyer into taking the case but that wasn’t difficult because he got his daughter pregnant and he doesn’t want anyone to know about it.
    Michele laughed out loud as she pictured her mother’s reaction. She’d be here on the next plane from Houston to help Michele pack her belongings.
    Suddenly Michele felt sleepy. She leaned back against the couch pillows and shut her eyes. The heat from the fire was warm against her cheek, like Steve’s lips when he’d kissed her good night at the door. Snow fell softly against the window, a light brushing sigh that matched her deep, even breathing. Michele fell asleep wondering what could possibly go wrong at breakfast.
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    Margaret Whitworth closed the notebook with a snap. The courthouse clock chimed the half hour, and Margaret glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty in the morning. She’d spent the whole evening rereading her notebooks, the private little lists she kept of odd phrases and names. Margaret was fascinated by the English language, and she’d kept notebooks for years, stacked in a pile under the table by the bed. Howard had complained that she was wasting her time compiling lists that no one would ever read, but Margaret enjoyed her little hobby. And the new list that she’d started last week was already one of her favorites. By the time she was through, it would be filled with names that fitted a person’s profession. “Goodbody Mortuary” headed the list. It was a large undertaking firm in San Diego. Then there was “Doctor Morte,” a pathologist at the Mayo Clinic. He’d appeared in a news clip last Tuesday. And this afternoon, right here in St. Cloud, she’d spotted the best one of all, “Dr. Pull, D.D.S.” He had an office above Dan Marsh Drugs. Margaret knew she’d walked past the building directory for years without noticing his name.
    Margaret took off her reading glasses and slipped them into the case. She was tired, and she might just break tradition tomorrow. The world wouldn’t fall apart if she didn’t show up at her office until noon. She was beginning to appreciate the concept of self-indulgence. At her age she deserved to take a little time off and enjoy herself.
    Howard would have been shocked at her attitude. Margaret smiled as she clicked off the light. He had always been immersed in his work. Even when she’d dragged him to France on vacation, he’d taken along his briefcase filled with papers.
    Margaret’s smile grew as she remembered strolling down the Champs-Élysées and stopping at a sidewalk café to enjoy a glass of Pernod. Several handsome Frenchmen had made overtures, and she almost wished that she’d encouraged them. Howard had spent the entire vacation in their hotel room making transatlantic business calls. No wonder he hadn’t liked Paris.
    There were six pillows on the bed. Margaret reached for her favorite and hugged it tightly. She never thought she’d miss Howard’s rattling snores, but she did. Perhaps women weren’t made to sleep alone. The bed was too big and too cold.
    Jane had been saving money for a heated water bed. She’d shown Margaret the brochures. Perhaps it wasn’t such a silly idea after all. Margaret laughed out loud as she made up her mind. She’d call in the morning and order the best one in the showroom. Even slightly-past-middle-age ladies had the right to a warm bed.
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    Steve settled down on Chief Schultz’s couch and propped his feet up on the end. The couch was too small to accommodate his