Chapter One
Detective Steve Carella wasn't sure he had heard the man
correctly. This was not what a bereaved husband was supposed to say when
his wife lay disemboweled on the bedroom floor in a pool of her own
blood. The man was still wearing overcoat and homburg, muffler and
gloves. He stood near the telephone on the night table, a tall man with
a narrow face, the vertical plane of which was dramatically broken by a
well-groomed gray mustache that matched the graying hair at his temples.
His eyes were clear and blue and distinctly free of pain or grief. As if
to make certain Carella had understood him, he repeated a fragment of
his earlier statement, giving it even more emphasis this time around.
"Very glad she's dead," he said.
"Sir," Carella said, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you..."
"That's right," the man said, "you don't have to tell me. It happens I'm
a criminal lawyer. I am ... read full excerpt from Sadie When She Died ebook
