Dead on the Fourth of July (David Dean Mysteries)

Lydia fell silent, eyes closed. The only sound in the apartment was the quiet whir of an electric clock. Dean was afraid she'd passed out. "Maybe if you'd talked to him you might have worked things out," Dean offered, more to prompt attention than to pursue a subject he cared nothing about.

She popped out of her meditation. "And asked him what? How good she was? Bullshit! That's what marriage is." There was a slight slur to her words. "Besides, I didn't say I wanted to marry you, did I? We're talking about sex-a tit for a tat. I owe you and I don't like having debts. Think of it as an early Christmas." She unfastened the belt of her robe and hunched up, pushing it aside, letting it fall open just enough to expose an uninterrupted line of flesh from between her breasts, and down her torso and leg.

Dean stood up and turned around. Ms. Larkin was far from sober, but Dean had unanswered questions. "Lydia, you don't owe me a damn thing but some answers."

Lydia spoke in a whisper. "So ask."

"Please close your robe."

This time she laughed. "So ask."

"How do you think Billy was killed? Do you think he was racing?"

Dean could tell by the look on her face that Lydia wanted to forget about Billy Langstrom and the accident, but she answered. "Going too damned fast, but there was no one else there."

Careful, Dean thought to himself. "How do you know?"

Lydia thought a moment. "Guess I don't, but I didn't see anyone. They would have stuck around. Even kids have a conscience."

"You weren't up there?" Dean asked cautiously.

She didn't make the connection. "I was out on the highway, and earlier, up the road to Engineer Pass. We were looking for kids with booze."

"How did you get the call?"

"Why are you questioning me?" When Dean didn't respond, she answered. "A woman at the last house up the road heard the crash. She called 911."

"Where was Fitzgerald?"

She took her time answering. "In town doing traffic control, I guess."

"Why did you ask him where he'd been-and earlier ask me if I'd seen him?"

"Because when I got the call that said a car had gone over, I couldn't raise him. I figured he was already up there, out of range. That's how I got stuck at the crash scene-all alone."

"Is that what made you freak out up on the mountain?"

She turned away, covering her face, and began to cry. "Get out of here! Just get the hell out of here!"

Dean began to protest but she crossed to her bedroom and slammed the door. He had no alternative but to leave. There would be no further questions tonight. As he left the building, he glanced at his watch. It was just after midnight. The old-fashioned Fourth was finally over.