Drowning in Christmas (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith Ivie Page B

thing on except when we're supposed to meet somewhere.”
    “Read my lips,” she responded serenely. “Vibrate.”
    I snatched the offending device out of my purse and flipped it open. “If this is a telemarketer, boy, did you get a wrong number.”
    I was horrified to hear Mary O’Halloran's voice, which trembled with tears. Her obvious agony stabbed me to the heart. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know who else to call. It's been more than forty-eight hours now, and the police haven't come up with a single lead.”
    I flapped a hand at Margo and Strutter to stop their giggling. “Mary O’Halloran,” I mouthed silently.
    “It's fine, Mary. I was just being stupid. Did you tell the police all the things you and I talked about on Friday? What about Joseph? Have they been able to locate him?”
    “Oh, God, I talked to them for hours and hours,” Mary moaned. “They know as much as I do about James’ family, friends, educational background, hobbies, old girlfriends, bank accounts, everything. They wanted to know if he's addicted to anything, Kate, or if I think he might be cheating on me.
Cheating
on me.” She blew her nose. “As for Joseph, it's as if he never existed. He hasn't been at the last address we have for him in California for more than a year, and the cell phone number he gave me goes right to voice mail. I'm at the end of my rope, Kate.”
    John returned to the table looking somber. He motioned to me to hang up.
    “Mary, listen. I have to go right now, but I'll call you back in just a few minutes, okay? I'm sure we'll know more very soon. Hang in there just a little longer.”
    “Kate?” It was as if Mary, too, sensed that important information was about to be forthcoming. “If you learn anything, anything at all, please tell me. It's been long enough now that the news probably won't be good, but I can take it. Anything is better than this not knowing. Promise me.”
    I assessed John's grim expression before answering her, but she had a point. Not knowing had to be the absolute worst.
    “I promise,” I assured her and ended the call. Across the aisle, Ginnie and her companion stared curiously. John eased his lanky frame back into the booth beside Margo and turned his back on them. He spoke quietly.
    “A body just washed up in Wethersfield Cove.”
    “James O’Halloran?” I blurted, wanting him to deny it.
    “The odds are good, I'm afraid. It's a middle-aged man wearing a Santa Claus suit.”

Six
     
    “W hat's the address?” Margo asked, and I realized that I didn't know.
    “I'll drive. I sold them their house, remember.” Strutter led the way to her gray Lexus, a dignified vehicle that seemed to fit the circumstances.
    I had relayed to Mary as gently as possible what John had told me about James’ body washing up in the Cove. I explained that the coroner would be asking her to come in and identify the remains at some point and offered to accompany her.
    “Oh, please, please!” she begged in a ragged voice. “Let me see him now. I can't sit here waiting for an official call. If you won't come and get me, I'm going to drive myself to the Cove this minute. There has to be an end to this.”
    “Not a good idea,” John pronounced. “No telling what condition the body is in after days in the water. At least let the coroner's crew get him cleaned up a little before she has to view the remains.”
    “If we don't bring her, John, she'll drive herself. She knows where he is.”
    John shot Margo a “Help me!” look.
    “It will be terrible for Mary wherever she has to do this, Darlin’,” she reminded him softly. “The images are already in her mind. At least this way, she won't have to drive herself, and we'll be there to support her.”
    He gave up. “It's a public place. If she shows up against my advice, there's nothing I can do about it.”
    “Will the police at the scene allow her to see him?” Strutter put in.
    “They will if John tells them to. In any event, they won't be able