Certain Sleep — Helen Reilly

ACCIDENT?
SUICIDE?
OR MURDER?

The long, low silver car stood alone in the new parking lot, Hester Lansing was behind the wheel of the car. She was not only dead, she had been dead for a good many hours and the car still reeked of liquor. Her soft skin was cold, clammy. Inspector McKee's expert eye picked up the closed windows and the strawberry red flush on the pretty face. McKee went around to the back of the car. As he had surmised, the exhaust pipe of embedded in the raw earth of the bank that rose above it…