Read Cold Day in Hell for Free Online

hour in the woman’s apartment. You came over here with a pile of the woman’s mail. Maybe you even went and talked to her a second time, I don’t know. And now she’s dead. You have no connection with that whatsoever. You were the good guy. I don’t happen to think you have a single thing to regret.”
    “I regret that she’s dead.”
    I regretted something else, too. Immediately. I regretted saying what I’d just said in the particular heavy tone I’d said it in. I
was
sluggish. I wasn’t picking up on Margo’s cues quickly enough.
Maybe you even went and talked to her a second time
. Margo crossed her arms then instantly uncrossed them. Suddenly, they were awkward appendages.
    “You’d better get that stuff off to your cop.”
    I shook my head slowly. “Not on this note.”
    She leveled her look at me. “I saw you standing at the window last night. You thought I was asleep.”
    “I wasn’t thinking about whether you were asleep or not.”
    “Oh. Well. Thank you.”
    I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m going to apologize. But I’m not sure for what.”
    “Then don’t.”
    “Look, a woman who asked me for some help was murdered right across the damn street. I know it’s not my responsibility, but sue me, I feel bad about it. I woke up and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I went to the window and took turns feeling sorry for the dead woman and feeling sorry for myself. I can’t justify the pity party, but there it is. I think that’s pretty much the whole picture.”
    She let my words hang in the air. “I accept your apology.”
    “You forced my apology.”
    “I know I did. I accept it anyway.”
    I looked at my watch. “This is pretty early for daytime drama, don’t you think? It’s been swell fighting with you, lady, but I’ve got to be going.”
    Margo’s voice was without inflection. “You’re going to get involved with this thing, aren’t you?”
    “I’m taking the letters to Joe Gallo. I have to do that.”
    “But you said you were going to copy them first.”
    “That’s right.”
    “If you need something to read, I’ve got a zillion books right here.”
    I went into the bedroom and grabbed my coat off the chair. I fetched a PBS tote bag from the closet and went into the living room and collected Robin Burrell’s letters and e-mails and put them in the tote. When I popped into the kitchen to say goodbye, Margo was still at the table, holding her coffee cup up near her chin once more.
    “
Did
you see her a second time, Fritz?”
    I took a beat. “Would it actually matter if I had?”
    Even though she was already stock-still, I got the impression that she froze just a tad more. Maybe it was her eyes.
    “Not the answer I wanted to hear.”
    I hoisted the tote bag onto my shoulder. “Yes,” I said. “I did. She needed to talk again. We got together a second time.”
    Margo took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “I know.”
     
     
    HOMICIDE DETECTIVE JOSEPH GALLO had never met a mirror he didn’t like. I know that’s an old saw, but its cut is nonetheless true. If Gallo ran his hand down his silk tie once in the twenty minutes we spoke together in his office, he did it a hundred times. Gallo’s face was handsome the way Dracula’s face is handsome. Good bones, seductive black eyes set in deep sockets. There are no fewer than three dapper television detectives Gallo has been overheard claiming to be the model for. The thing is, he might be right. Central casting could do a hell of a lot worse than Joseph Gallo.
    The detective was on the phone. As he signaled me to take a seat, he rolled his eyes at whomever it was he had on the line. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt were folded back to his forearms in perfect rectangles. His top button was loose, and his tie was artfully askew. A copy of the
Post
was on his desk. Facedown.
    “Of course I’m looking into it. What do you think? I want to know that just as much…Right. Exactly…No,