"Kiser, Marcia - Sisterly Love" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kiser Marcia)

The older one nodded and the younger one shrugged. They looked both embarrassed and grim -- an interesting combination.

Dr. Bernard's sedative took hold and Jennifer's cries diminished into hiccupy whimpers. He moved behind Jennifer, patting her shoulder, in what I assumed was a comforting gesture.

"Mrs. Anderson, I'm Lt. Fields. This is Sgt. Gray. We need to ask you a few questions," the older cop said.

"What are you doing about my husband's murder? That's what I want to know." Jennifer yelled, but it lacked force.

"Did your husband own a gun?" Lt. Fields asked.

"A gun? No, I don't think so. Ask Tessa. She'll know. They went shooting . . . " Jennifer's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped in her chair.

"Ms. Sanders?"

Both detectives looked at me. I sighed.
"We went skeet shooting a couple of times," I shrugged. "And I think he had a hand gun."

"Was it a semi-automatic?"

"I don't think so. Doesn't an automatic have a wheel-thingie where you put the bullets in?"

Sgt. Gray smirked.

"No, ma'am. Revolvers are wheel guns. Semi-automatics have a slide. Did your brother-in-law have a semi-automatic?"

"No. I'm pretty sure it was the other kind -- the kind with the wheel-thingie."

"And you never saw your brother-in-law with a semi-automatic?"

"I don't think so. Uh, can you tell me why you decided Harold didn't kill himself?" I knew it probably wasn't the best time to ask, but I had to know.

"The gun was wiped clean, which makes us suspicious. Interestingly enough, we did find one print. On the barrel of the semi-automatic he was holding," Sgt. Gray said. He pulled out his gun, popped the clip free, ejected the shell and locked the slide back to point at the barrel - all to show me where the print had been found.

"That looks like your gun, Tessa." Oh, S! Jennifer picked that moment to be coherent. She looked around like a bleary-eyed drunk. "Didn't you loan your gun to Harold?"

Everyone froze. I knew it was over. Sgt. Gray rammed the clip back in his gun with the heel of his hand and worked the slide. In a flash, I saw the newspaper headlines. I saw the whole story being splashed and re-hashed on television. The cops would find Harold's safety deposit box key, which I had in my pocket -- one of things I had planned to fix.

The cops would trace the money back to me, and find the regular deposits in my own trust account. That would lead them straight to the money I had siphoned from Jennifer's trust fund that our parents had thoughtfully set up before carelessly dying in a boating accident. Happily, they had left me in charge.

I used the money from Jennifer's account to cover the funds I had embezzled from the bank where I worked, which I had taken to cover my gambling debts.

I didn't know how Harold found out, but he had and he bled me dry. I finally had enough and followed him home. He taunted me with my own gun, telling me he was going to arrest me and take me to the police station for embezzlement. We wrestled and I got the gun and used it.

Sgt. Gray had leveled his .45 semi-automatic at me while my home video ran through my head. I felt calm and relieved and knew I could end it now.

I lunged toward the gun. I saw Sgt. Gray's hand move. I felt a sledgehammer hit my chest. I smelled the gunpowder and smiled.

***