Touchy and Feely (Sissy Sawyer Mysteries) by Graham Masterton Page B

appalling flu.’
    Doreen hunkered down next to Juniper and said, ‘That’s a really cool dolly. What’s her name?’
    ‘Izzy,’ said Juniper.
    Randall said, ‘Her aunt’s on her way here now. Ellen’s sister. She’s going to take care of her for now.’
    ‘We’ll need to talk to your little girl,’ Steve told him. ‘But we’ll have a specialist in child witness interviews . . . you know, somebody who won’t upset her.’
    ‘Upset her? She saw her mother shot dead, right in front of her eyes.’
    ‘But you didn’t see anything? Or hear anything?’
    Randall blew his nose. ‘The first I knew about it was Juniper shouting at me.’
    ‘Mr Mitchelson . . . can you think of anybody who might have wanted to harm your wife, for any reason whatsoever?’
    ‘She was a wife, she was a mother. That was all.’
    ‘She hadn’t fallen out with anybody lately? She hadn’t been involved in any local politics, or any personal disputes?’
    ‘She was very critical of all the money that was being spent on restoring Union Station. She thought that it ought to be spent on other things, like play areas for kids, and traffic calming. But that was all. I can’t see anybody wanting to kill her for that.’
    ‘OK,’ said Steve, making a note. ‘And what about your personal relationship?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Were you and Ellen getting along OK?’
    ‘Of course. What are you trying to suggest?’
    ‘I’m not suggesting anything, sir. I simply have to ask you these routine questions.’
    Randall stared at him in disbelief. ‘You think that I had her killed? She was my wife. She was the mother of my child. How can you think that I had her killed? How do you think that I’m ever going to find a woman like Ellen, ever again? Jesus.’
    Steve waited for a moment while Randall blew his nose again. Then he said, ‘Financially, things are OK?’
    ‘Financially? What does that have to do with somebody shooting my wife?’
    ‘I mean, your business is OK? You don’t have too many outstanding debts?’
    ‘I don’t see the relevance.’
    ‘Can you please just answer the question, sir?’
    ‘All right, I have debts, but nothing too serious. Fifteen, twenty thousand dollars. I’m a freelance surveyor, I’ve been working on the Paugnut Mall at Torrington. I don’t get paid until the second stage is completed, but that’s not an insurmountable problem.’
    ‘Was your wife insured?’
    Randall lowered his head and pressed his fingers against his forehead as if he were starting a migraine. Steve waited and said nothing, because he knew how enraged he would be, if somebody had asked him the same question.
    Doreen said, ‘Did your mommy give you this doll?’
    Juniper nodded, solemnly. ‘I’m going to buy her a black dress because of Mommy being shot.’
    Eventually, Randall said, ‘The answer to your question, Detective, is yes, she was insured, but not for very much. And her value to me was far greater than all the money in the world. Now, I think I’d like you to leave.’
    ‘Just one more question, Mr Mitchelson, if you don’t mind. Do you know anybody who owns a panel van, or have you noticed a panel van anywhere around here in the past few weeks, parked, or driving especially slow?’
    ‘Most of my contractors run panel vans.’
    ‘OK . . . can you do me a favor, then, and draw up a list of all of your contractors, especially those you know for sure have panel vans?’
    ‘You don’t seriously believe that one of my contractors—?’
    Steve put away his notebook. ‘Mr Mitchelson, I don’t seriously believe anything at the moment. There appears to be no motive for your wife’s death, and so far we have no suspects. I have to assume that anybody and everybody might have done it.’
    Randall gave him a bunged-up nod. ‘Yes. I understand. I’m sorry. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I keep expecting to hear her singing in the kitchen. She couldn’t sing, you know. Couldn’t hold a