Deadly Fall by Susan Calder Page B

jumped up. It was after eleven. Who would phone at this hour? She hurried to the kitchen. “Hello?”
    No one spoke. Someone had called and hung up early this morning, too.
    â€œHello? Who’s there?”
    The line went dead.

Chapter Six
    Paula finished her morning coffee, her mind numb from two sleepless nights. She got Detective Vincelli’s business card from the telephone cabinet. Two hang-up phone calls the day after Callie died might be a coincidence, but Vincelli had told her to phone about anything possibly connected to the murder. Thank God, none had blasted her awake this morning, and Hayden would be staying over tonight. The doorbell made her jump. She glanced at the wall clock. Five past ten. Hayden wouldn’t have finished his work already. She hurried through the living room. On tiptoes, she peered through the front door window. The opaque glass obscured the tall, bald man in a business suit—Detective Vincelli.
    â€œI was passing by on my way to the station,” he said.
    â€œIs there some news about the murder?”
    â€œNothing significant. I can only stay a minute.” His face looked as tired as hers had this morning in the bathroom mirror. His beard stubble was moving from fashionable to unkempt.
    She cinched her bathrobe belt and patted her bed hair. “I was going to call you about some phone calls I received.”
    â€œYesterday morning and last night shortly after eleven o’clock?”
    â€œHow did you know about them?”
    â€œThey were sent from Callie’s cell phone.”
    She gripped the belt, trying to take this in. Callie had her cell with her when she died. If someone was using the phone now . . . “Did the killer take the phone and gun?”
    â€œThe cell might have been dropped and picked up by someone else.”
    Or the murderer had phoned her last night. Hello. Hello? she had said into the line.
    â€œDid the caller say anything?” Vincelli asked.
    â€œNothing. The line sounded dead, both times.”
    â€œWhat about breathing?”
    â€œNo, I hung up fast. Why would the killer phone me?”
    â€œWe don’t know that’s who it was.”
    Sweat beads flecked his beard stubble, despite the cool air flowing into the house. She stepped back to let him into the entranceway.
    â€œYour number was the last one Callie phoned,” he said. “Someone likely pressed redial as a joke.”
    â€œTwice? At sixteen-hour intervals?”
    â€œDid you hear any background sounds? Music? Mumbled voices? Think carefully.”
    She twisted the belt around her fingers. “I’m sure there was nothing. Why would the murderer joke around with the phone?”
    â€œWhy not? The calls would be traced to Callie’s cell, not to the person who placed them.”
    â€œYou could trace them to a cell phone tower.”
    â€œThat didn’t tell us enough.”
    â€œDid he do it to scare me? Was it a threat?”
    He pulled his tie, as though he found it choking his neck. “Callie may have, inadvertently, placed you in a difficult position. Several people we spoke with had the impression you were her main confidante. It appears she exaggerated the level of your recent friendship.”
    â€œTo whom? Sam? He called me her best friend.”
    â€œShe told someone she was having lunch with you this week.”
    â€œWe didn’t because I didn’t return her call.”
    â€œWho’s to know you didn’t?”
    Now, would he want her alibi for every noon hour this week?
    â€œWe don’t think Callie was worried about being murdered,” he said. “But supposing the two of you had met and Callie had said ‘so-and-so’s doing this or saying that or otherwise causing me grief.’”
    â€œI would have given her advice, as best I could.”
    â€œAnd if she hadn’t taken it, or did take it and was killed?”
    â€œI would have told you about