“It’s a sad day in New Orleans…”
The mayor said, shaking his head. “Dreadful accident.”
“Do you really believe Wayne’s death was an accident?” I asked. “I’m not convinced that it was.”
The mayor took my elbow and ushered me toward the sliding glass doors. “Let’s not talk of this here,” he said.
We stepped outside into the hot air, and paused under a palm tree.
“I know how upset you must be, Mrs. Fletcher. Wayne was a friend to us all.”
“I certainly am upset, Mayor Amadour,” I said, feeling a different kind of heat rising in my blood. “I’m particularly upset that the police department made such a quick decision on the nature of Wayne’s death. I really can’t believe it.”
“Now, now, Mrs. Fletcher.” He took my hand between his and patted it. “I knew Wayne for many years, and he was a bit of an odd duck.”
“I don’t think…” I started to say, but he wouldn’t let me speak.
“He was an obsessive man,” he said, squeezing my hand hard, and catching my ring in the vise of his grip, “no telling what he would do if he took a mind to it. I believe if you think about that for a little while, you’ll come to the same conclusion.”
I yanked my hand away, and suppressed the urge to rub my finger where the ring had made a dent in the skin…
Copyright © 2001 by Jessica Fletcher and Donald Bain. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
