Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (read out loud books txt) 📖

I am hearing the buzzer outside—you know, the intercom—because my apartment is right by the gate. So I am hearing and seeing most people coming and going. And I am pretty sure that I am hearing a woman on Friday night. I am hoping maybe it is Miss Katie come back to see David. So I am going to the door and looking through the peephole. But I can’t see properly. She does not put on the light. But she takes the elevator to the fifth floor. Ten minutes later, not more than fifteen, the elevator comes down again and somebody leaves. Next morning I go up to see about the rent, he is not answering his door, I let myself in and, oh my god! He is dead.”

Dehan held up her hands. “So, hang on a second there, Sammy. Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Did you at any point get a clear look at this visitor on Friday night?”

“No.”

“Not when they arrived and not when they left.”

“No.”

“So what makes you think it was a woman?”

“Oh, the intercom. I think I recognize David’s voice, so I am saying, ‘Oh, goodness, maybe Miss Katie is coming back!’ And I am looking through the window. I can’t see her, but I can hear her voice asking to be let in.”

Dehan pressed him, “And was it clearly a woman’s voice?”

“To me it was clear. To me it was a woman. But she spoke very softly. Too softly to make out what she said, or to be sure who it was.”

I said, “So you can’t in fact be certain that this visitor actually went to David’s apartment.”

He looked apologetic. “I am certain that it was a woman, and I am certain that she did. But that is only my own personal opinion. I did not see it with my own eyes, no.”

I nodded a few times and looked at Dehan. She shook her head. “I’m good.”

I turned to Sammy. “You have been very helpful. Thank you. We won’t keep you any longer.”

He wished us all the very best and begged us please to come again if we were ever passing by in the neighborhood. We thanked him and left.

Outside, the roads were wet and the air was cold and blustery. It wasn’t raining, but the clouds were dark and sagging overhead, and didn’t look as though they were about to move on any time soon. We climbed into the car and I fired up the engine and turned on the warm air. Dehan rubbed her hands together and said, “Did you happen to talk to Miss Katie O’Connor last night as well?”

I smiled and pulled my notebook from my inside pocket. I flipped it open and handed it to her. “No. She’s a realtor working southwest Bronx. I figured you could give her a call and fix up an appointment. That’s her number.” I gave a small shrug and grinned at her. “There is no need for her to know we are cops until we get there.”

She nodded and started dialing. “Less chance of her suddenly remembering a non-existent dentist’s appointment if she thinks she’s going to sell us a house rather than get interrogated about her boyfriend’s murder.”

“That was the way my mind was working.”

She put the phone to her ear and stared out of the window. “So, what? Are we married and looking for a place together, or what?” I gave her my expressionless face but she didn’t look at me. After a moment she said, “Oh, yes, good morning, am I speaking to Katie O’Connor?” She laughed like they were sharing a joke and said, “Hello, Katie! Listen, when would it be convenient for you to see us… What are we looking for? Well, we were hoping you could point us in the right direction!” She laughed uproariously again. “One o’clock? Oh really? Oh that sounds perfect.” She looked at me and blinked several times, “Darling, Katie will see us at one o’clock on Howe Avenue. She is showing a gorgeous three bedroom semi-detached house. Darling, are you listening to me?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes, darling.”

“Katie, that sounds perfect. We’ll see you there at one. Let’s see if between us we can get the old dinosaur to make up his mind!”

She hung up and eyed me, suppressing a smile. I took my notebook back and said, “That was unnecessarily elaborate.”

“What can I do? I’m creative. When a girl is creative, she creates, right?”

“I need to dry out, get some hot coffee and a donut.”

She smiled. “All these years married, and you still say the most romantic things, honeykins.”

“Cut it out!”

She snorted, but remained silent the rest of the way to Fteley Avenue.

Three

The clouds had broken and were hanging, white and wet against a cold blue sky. An icy wind was whipping in gusts off the East River, flapping our clothes and dragging Dehan’s hair across her face, forcing her to claw it back with her fingers so she could see where she was going. We leaned against the gusts and made our way up the drive, past the protruding garage, to the front door. It stood wedged open. I rested my hand on the door jamb and looked in. Dehan rang the bell, then shouldered past me, muttering, “Door’s open. We can go in.” Then she called out, “Katie? Katie O’Connor?”

Katie O’Connor appeared in the kitchen doorway with a bright smile on her face. She had copper-red hair, deep blue eyes, and a cute spray of freckles. She was wearing a handsome tweed suit that made her look expensive. Her smile faded slightly when Dehan showed her her badge.

“Hi, Katie, I am Detective Carmen Dehan and this is my partner, Detective John Stone. We’d like to ask you some questions about your relationship with