"Nancy Springer - Silent End" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

Hamilton."
But instead of asking her why she thought this, the detective said in a
chilly drawl, "Well, isn't that interesting. That's what we think, too."
"But -- but how did you find out?" Too late, Judith realized how bad that
sounded.
"Traced the stone. Jewelers keep records, you know." The detective's
voice turned frostier yet. "How did you know Eloise Hamilton?"
His tone made Judith grab at the wall-mounted phone for support, yet
she found herself babbling, "I'm -- I was -- in Scrabble Club with her."
"Is that right? I understand she was quite an obnoxious person."
"Yes, she was." Shut up, Judith told herself, almost crying, yet she kept
going. She had to make this stupid cop get a clue. Had to. "Look, whoever
killed her was a word freak. 'Kill,' that's why he put her in my kiln, because of
the pun, don't you see? And 'die,' that thing he put in with her was a die. He
couldn't stand it that she -- "
A heavy hand clamped over her mouth from behind, choking her off.
Another hand wrested the phone receiver away from her and hung it up.
Judith struggled, clawed at the fingers bruising her face, tried to bite, tried to
scream, but already she knew she was dead. He was very strong.
Unexpectedly strong, for such a nerd.
 ***
"Good thing we had you under surveillance," the elephant-eared,
potato-nosed detective said.
In the hospital emergency room, being treated for bruises and shock,
Judith found it difficult to reply politely, so she did not answer at all.
He tried again. "Good thing I had two of my best men right there in the
church parking lot."
Judith said nothing.
"When they got to you," said the detective, "he had you in the boiler
room, with your face on the concrete and his knee in the middle of your
back, and he was tinkering with the gauges."
Judith shuddered. That part she didn't remember. All she remembered
was heavy hands choking her, then nothing. Until she found herself being
picked up, brushed off, and watching them take Doug away in handcuffs.
"Are you okay?" the detective asked. "Say something."
Judith cleared her throat and tried out her voice. "He killed Eloise," she
said unsteadily.
"So it is alleged, yes."
Judith had a handle on this kettle of fish now. "He kilned her," she
declared, as crisp as bisque, "but he should have never said 'die.' He Doug
his own grave."
Copyright (C) 2002 by Nancy Springer.