Free The Magic of Murder by Susan Lynn Solomon Page B

opened the door?”
    “I, uh…” I peered through the pass-through from the kitchen to the French doors.
    “Well?” He leaned closer.
    “I…saw his face outside the door,” I said, and stared at Elvira, daring her to call me a liar. She might have done just that had she been able to speak. As it was, she let out a low hiss, which had the same effect.
    “You looked through the door, did you?” Roger said.
    Caught (hoisted on my own petard, my mother would have said), I tightened my lips and nodded.
    Roger lifted my chin, and looked into my eyes. “You pulled open the blind and looked close enough for a stranger to see you and break in?”
    “But…it was Kevin,” I said.
    Elvira lifted a paw, and smacked Roger’s ankle. It looked as though she wanted him to say letting my ex in was worse than if it had been a stranger. If the stupid cat had been a female dog—well, I’m glad I stopped before I called her that.
    “Hmmm,” Roger said.
    Was his reaction jealousy? I didn’t have time to consider what his jealousy might imply. There was another knock on my front door.
    “Central Station, come right in,” I called as I rose from the table.
    When I opened the door, I saw Harry Woodward on my stoop. Hatless on the cold night, his long face was drawn, and he had dark rings under his eyes. A workaholic, the man seemed extremely tired. Pressures of his job, lack of sleep? I was sure he’d have looked the same way when he was colonel, and lost one of his marines in Iraq.
    “Good evening, Emlyn.” He brushed past me. “Mind if I come in?”
    “Not at all,” I said to his back. “Make yourself at home.”
    As he entered the kitchen, in his stiffest tone, Woody demanded, “Detective Frey, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t work the Osborn case.”
    Roger crossed his legs and replied evenly, “What makes you think I intend to work the case? My shift ended. I stopped to have coffee with my friend.”
    “Please, Detective, give me credit for knowing my team. You spent the day nosing around to learn what we’ve got, and the next thing I know you call in an APB.”
    A small smile crossed Roger’s lips. “I didn’t know this had anything to do with Jimmy until I got here and Emlyn told me her ex broke in. Tell the Chief what Reinhart told you.”
    Woody turned to me with his lips pinched. It was as if he asked whether Roger’s alibi was too much of a sieve to hold water.
    I looked him squarely in the eyes. In a curt tone, I said, “That’s right. I was frightened by a man in my yard. When I let him in, he said—”’
    “You opened the door to someone who scared you?” Chief Woodward said.
    I gulped. I’m a poor liar, always have been. As a result, I usually don’t even try to do it. But, this wasn’t a lie. Why was my face growing warm?
    As if he were assessing my truthfulness, Chief Woodward’s eyes rested on me for a minute. At last, he said, “All right, then, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
    He settled between Roger and me at the dinette table and pulled a pad from his coat pocket. It was clear he would interview me whether or not I minded.
    Over the next half hour I told him in detail what happened when I drove up to my house—leaving out the part where initially I was certain Jack the Ripper or maybe a vampire was waiting in lurk for me. Each time I paused, Woody looked up from his pad and asked another question. By the time we were done, I felt as though I’d been run over by the four-by-four I’d seen outside.
    When he rose from the table, the Chief turned to Roger. “Are you staying?” he asked.
    His eyes fixed on his boss’s face, my friend answered, “I am.”
    Woody tried to pinion him with a stare. “You’re staying with a friend, then, not with a witness. Am I being clear?”
    “Yes, sir,” Roger said.
    I waited for him to jump to attention and give his boss a sarcastic salute. That’s what I would have done. Thank goodness Roger had more sense than I.
    “As long