Free Killer Swell by Jeff Shelby Page B

was having second thoughts because we were at a memorial service and I didn’t want to take advantage of someone’s vulnerability.
    But Kate was dead and I was frustrated.
    â€œActually I do have a couple of questions.”
    He blinked several times, looking almost surprised that I’d taken him up on his offer, then shrugged. “Alright.”
    â€œThe other night you said that Kate didn’t want to be married anymore.”
    He nodded. “That’s what she told me, yes.”
    â€œAny more thoughts on why she might’ve felt that way?”
    â€œShe didn’t give me anything else,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Never told me what she was unhappy about.”
    â€œCould it have been you?”
    He blinked again and shoved a hand into his pocket. “I don’t know, I guess.”
    I watched him. “Maybe something you’d done?”
    Randall shifted his weight, his impatience starting to show. “Like?”
    â€œWhat do you do in your spare time?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t follow.”
    â€œWater ski, collect art, knit,” Carter said. “For example.”
    Randall glared at him. “Was I talking to you?”
    â€œNo. That was me talking to you. Pay attention.”
    Randall looked back to me. “Don’t play with me, Noah. Not today. What do you wanna know?”
    He’d raised his voice, and several looks were directed toward us.
    â€œYou and Kate had a good marriage?” I asked.
    His jaw tightened. “I thought so.”
    â€œHow good?”
    The other hand disappeared into the other pocket. “I don’t know how to answer that. I told you things were strained.”
    The sun was high in the sky and aimed directly at us.
    â€œYou cheat on her?” I asked.
    Randall’s cheeks flexed slightly, his jaw set. His eyes narrowed, and the sun wasn’t the only thing that was hot.
    â€œWhat the hell is this?” he growled.
    â€œAn investigation into your wife’s death,” I told him. “You asked if you could help.”
    Randall looked at Carter, who had settled into his imposing-but-nonchalant stance. I thought Randall wanted to hit Carter, but the more I thought about it, that didn’t make sense because Randall didn’t seem like a dumb guy.
    Randall looked back at me. “Leave—now.”
    â€œYou didn’t answer my question,” I said.
    His right hand emerged from his pocket, his index finger pointing at me. “This is my wife’s funeral. You wanna fuck around with me? Fine. But not here, not today.”
    â€œThen when?” I asked.
    He jabbed the finger in my direction. “How about after I rip your fucking head off?” He spun on his heel and walked away from us.
    I looked at Carter.
    He adjusted his glasses. “How will you hear his answer if your head is detached?”

19
    Carter left the funeral before I did, mumbling something about having to be somewhere. I didn’t ask where.
    I hung around for a while, despite Randall’s threat. I scanned the crowd looking for people who seemed out of place, who maybe didn’t belong at Kate’s funeral, who looked like a walking clue.
    I went zero for three.
    I was heading for my car when I heard someone call my name. I turned around and saw Emily coming toward me.
    â€œSorry,” she said, as she reached me. “Didn’t mean to yell.”
    â€œIt’s okay. What’s up?”
    She frowned, looking embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
    â€œEarlier?”
    She nodded. “Walking away from you and Carter like that. I just got too upset.”
    I watched the cars trickle out of the lot and down the hill. “I think you’re allowed to be upset, Em.”
    â€œWell, thanks,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “But I don’t need to be rude, too.”
    â€œYou weren’t. It was fine.”
    The corners of her mouth