Free Murder on the Thirteenth by A.E. Eddenden

He indicated everyone at the table. They all bobbed their heads in agreement.
    â€œGum was with me,” Garth said. “But I didn’t see Mrs Zulp.”
    â€œShe was in the washroom,” Cynthia Moon said, “throwing up.”
    â€œWhat about the Chief?” Tretheway asked.
    â€œI don’t think he’s moved for over an hour.” Wan Ho glanced at Zulp who was still sitting in front of his gin.
    â€œTremaine and Pat Sprong kept me company,” Addie said with an edge to her voice.
    â€œDoc and the Squire were with me.” Wan Ho said.
    â€œNo one else you can think of?” Tretheway led them.
    â€œThe mayor and his wife were chasing balloons. Together,” Cynthia Moon offered.
    Tretheway waited.
    â€œMary Dearlove,” Addie said to the table.
    â€œWhat about her?” Tretheway asked.
    â€œShe wasn’t here.”
    Tretheway looked at Jake. “Anybody see her?”
    Everybody exchanged glances, then shook their heads.
    â€œAnd where is she now?” Addie looked around.
    â€œDancing?” Zoë said.
    â€œMaybe still gathering news,” Cynthia suggested.
    â€œOr on a secret tryst,” Garth said.
    Everyone stared at Garth.
    â€œShe’s over twenty-one,” he added defensively.
    â€œYou’re quite right,” Addie said. “Whatever she’s doing, it’s her business.”
    â€œAnyone for a martini?” Beezul asked.
    â€œDon’t mind if I do.” Garth accepted.
    Tretheway reached for his Scotch. They began to chat about other things.
    After the last dance and the anthem, everyone was ready to go home. Most were smiling in recognition of another successful Policemen’s Ball. The remaining refreshments were gathered up by their owners. Beezul’s shaker was dry, the Zulps’ gin was long gone and Jake’s rye bottle and Gum’s rum were dead soldiers on the table. Addie packed Tretheway’s half bottle of Scotch and the two untouched bottles of her wine.
    â€œI see the wine moved slowly again.” Jake winked at Tretheway.
    â€œI think this is the third year we’ve brought the same bottles,” Tretheway said.
    Addie ignored them.
    As Tretheway and Jake struggled into their bulky winter coats, Wan Ho sidled up between them, and spoke quietly.
    â€œI had my suspicions back there about Mary Dearlove. You two sure you’re not holding back?”
    â€œAh,” Jake said. “Good detective like good wine.”
    â€œAh,” Tretheway repeated. “Get better with age.”
    â€œThank you so much,” Wan Ho bowed.
    Tretheway and Jake smiled.
    â€œHonestly now,” Wan Ho said. “If I can do anything to help.”
    Tretheway reached out and took Wan Ho’s upper arm, in a firm but friendly grip. “In good time,” he said.
    On Sunday morning Addie vacuumed and dusted the house with the help of two willing student boarders. Jake appeared later. He went straight outside to shovel the four-to-five inches of snow that had fallen overnight. Tretheway slept in longer than anyone, but tidied up his own quarters before he came down for a late substantial breakfast. In the afternoon, he took his customary walk in Coote’s Paradise. This time, Jake, Gum, the Squire and, as usual, Fred the Labrador went with him. Fat Rollo watched disdainfully from his place in front of the fire as the group marched out the front door into the sunny but wintry weather.
    They skirted the university property and entered the woods by the Chegwin trail. At the south shore they headed west toward the beginnings of the old Desjardin Canal. For the next two hours, they saw rabbits, field mice, ground hogs, two chipmunks and countless squirrels which had left their nests to enjoy the March sun. Jake and Gum, former King’s Scouts, identified the tracks of deer and foxes but saw none. Birds were plentiful: they saw starlings, blue jays, crows, circling hawks and had one