Читать книгу Poisoned Secrets - Margaret Daley - Страница 16

Aloud thud from the apartment above made Kane McDowell flinch and sit straight up in the lounger.

“What was that?” Edwina Bacon asked, putting her teacup down on the table next to her.

Kane’s gaze riveted to the ceiling of Edwina’s place. “Maybe Henry dropped something.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t look well tonight when I saw him go upstairs. That’s the second strange sound I’ve heard coming from the apartment above. What if he fell and hurt himself?”

“You worry too much about the tenants, Edwina. Henry’s certainly capable of taking care of himself.” His words didn’t erase the worry on the elderly woman’s face. Kane pushed to his feet. “But if it will make you feel better, I’ll go upstairs and check.”

“Oh, thank you. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to someone here. Even Henry.”

“You read too many mysteries,” Kane said as he headed for the foyer of the apartment building he owned.

Kane’s leg ached as he mounted the stairs to the second floor of the converted mansion. He’d overdone it today. Covering the short distance to apartment 2A, he knocked. He waited a minute and then rang the bell. Nothing.

Henry Payne sometimes was out late. But if that were the case, then what made the crashing sound? Reluctantly Kane dug into his pocket for the master key. He fit it into the lock and turned it, but the door was already unlocked.

Alarmed, he thrust the door open, every skill he’d learned in the military activated. The overpowering odors of cigars and lemon polish assailed his nostrils. The complete chaos scattered about this usually tidy, orderly place put Kane on alert. This definitely wasn’t a heart attack. Cautiously he moved into the lighted living area, listening for any sounds coming from the rest of the apartment. Silence greeted him.

“Henry,” he called out while scanning the room where every book the man owned, which had to be hundreds, seemed to be tossed on the floor. Drawer contents littered the beige area rug, and all the cabinets were emptied. The crunch of glass beneath his feet drew his glance. The mirror over the table in the small entryway lay on the hardwood floor in shattered pieces. Probably the crash Edwina heard.

Maybe Henry’s gone.

Or maybe not.

Coveting his own privacy, Kane hated invading another’s, but it was obvious something had gone terribly wrong here. He headed down the short hallway to investigate the two bedrooms. Each one was as neat and tidy as he knew Henry to be.

Back in the living room, Kane limped toward the kitchen to check out the rest of the place. When he swung the door open, the stench of blood—something he would never forget from his time in Iraq—accosted him. The cool breeze from an open window that led to the balcony chilled the room. As Kane inched forward, the door swung closed. The sound of its swish drew his attention behind him. He froze.

On the floor in a crimson pool lay Henry, his dark eyes staring at the ceiling, his arm flung out at an odd angle, a patch of light blue fabric clutched in his hand.