Free Dead Winter by William G. Tapply Page A

without missing a beat.
    “Take a break,” I said.
    “Can’t. Your article is late.”
    “How’s it sound?”
    “I’m typing it, not reading it.”
    “Oh.”
    “Actually, I fixed it up. It’s pretty boring, but at least it’s now in proper English. Your spelling wobbles.”
    “Of course it’s boring. It’s supposed to be.”
    She stopped typing, sighed, and swiveled around. I placed my hands on the front of her shoulders, bent, and kissed her forehead. “Sorry I was late. Sorry I didn’t call-She shrugged. “It’s what I expect.”
    “Come on. Lighten up, kid.”
    She smiled. “If I didn’t pout, you’d be upset.”
    “True.”
    “Were you really in a fight?”
    “I was attacked by a cowardly bully.”
    “The lady’s husband?”
    “Actually, yes. But it’s not what you think.”
    She grinned. “Sure.”
    “Tell me about these calls,” I said.
    She took the pad from me and squinted at it. “Not much to add.”
    “Who’s this Greenberg?”
    “Don’t know. He didn’t identify himself.”
    “Did he call back?”
    She frowned. “No. He said he would. He was very emphatic about it, actually. Said he’d call early and keep trying until he got through.”
    “Well, I guess he changed his mind. You told Charlie McDevitt to forget about lunch?”
    “I told him I hadn’t heard from you, didn’t know when or if you’d be in.”
    “Doc Adams?”
    “He started to tell me about largemouth brown trout or something.”
    “Bass? Largemouth bass? There’s no such thing as largemouth brown trout, Julie. You fish for brown trout with dry flies or nymphs on rivers like the Deerfield. Now, your largemouth bass—”
    Julie crossed her eyes. “You can’t expect me to keep your fish straight. I have enough trouble with your girlfriends.”
    “The fish are much more important,” I said. “Did Doc say where he went?”
    She rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember.”
    “Come on, Julie. This is important.”
    “For crying out loud, Brady.”
    I held up my hands, a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. What about Frank Paradise?”
    She smiled. “As usual. Refused to say his name. Assumes our phone is tapped or something. Tried to talk in code. He’s getting real paranoid, Brady.”
    “He’s always been real paranoid. He’s probably invented something new, watching out for the pirates. What’d Kat Winter want?”
    Julie’s mouth tightened in disapproval. “Oh, she’s so charming. Said it was personal, not professional. Somehow, the way she used the word ‘personal’…” Julie made her voice low and sultry in imitation.
    “She’s a client, Julie. Not to mention the fact that I spent the wee hours last night with her father and brother in Newburyport.”
    “Ah,” she said. “A day of fishing on the high seas and an evening of drinking beer and talking theology. No wonder you’re late.”
    “Marc’s wife was killed last night.”
    Julie stared at me. After a moment, she said, “You’re not kidding, are you?”
    “No.”
    “You really know how to smack a girl between the eyes, Brady Coyne.”
    “I would’ve told you. But you were so damn grouchy I said the hell with it.”
    “What happened?”
    I shrugged. “I’m not sure. The police suspect Marc, of course. He’s in the clear, though, I think.”
    “How is Mr. Winter doing?”
    “Des? Des is okay, I guess. He seems perceptibly older each time I see him. I think he was fond of Maggie. He appeared more confused than anything. Flustered. As if God were playing dirty tricks on him.”
    “I like him.”
    “Me too. He’s had more than his share of troubles.”
    “So all these phone calls,” she said. “I guess, by comparison, they’re not that important.”
    “To the people who made them they are. This is what we have to keep in mind.”
    She nodded. “I wasn’t the one wandering into the office at one in the afternoon.”
    “When you get that article done, why don’t you take off the rest of the