A Body to die for Read Online Free PDF

matter-of-factly. “Until proven guilty, that is.” Was she taunting me?
    “In Turkey,” I noted, “it’s the other way around. God bless America.”
    “If you’re working for him, I assume you’d lie for him.” Falcone glared at me. Through the puffs and folds around her eyes, the light of conviction beamed from behind her contacts. A female dick with a badge and a hard-on for justice. Just what I needed. The cops turned Barney over onto his stomach. No visible marks. The knife hadn’t cut clear through.
    “What’s your first name?” I asked.
    “Detective,” she answered.
    I said, “I’d really like to stay and dance around the issues, Detective, but somewhere out there, I have a life. So, if you’re done with me, I’ll split.”
    “Why don’t you hang around for a while?” she said.
    “What’s in it for me?”
    “Not casting suspicion on yourself for leaving the scene of the crime for starters.” She had a slight Southern accent—maybe Maryland or Washington. It added just enough lilt to her cigarette scratch to charm. I smiled and took the hint. I turned to leave and wait with Jack in the white room. “Oh, Mallory, one more thing,” Falcone called after me. “You dance around the issues divinely.”
    I walked out, wondering if Falcone was flirting with me. It wouldn’t be the first time I was hit on by a cop. My stomach growled. Police investigations always lasted at least two meal periods. I’d missed dinner. Breakfast would be next. I ignored the rumblings. It was a struggle at times, but I try never to let my clients see me sweat (metaphorically, I mean).
    I wiped my dewy brow. Jack and Janey were huddled together on the couch, comforting each other. I needed to talk business with him alone. “Hey, Janey, go take a hike.” I thumbed behind me at the treadmill. She clung to Jack, but he nudged her away. She actually went over to the machine and started hoofing. These people were like robots whose batteries constantly needed recharging. “Jack,” I said, “Falcone wants to nail you.”
    “Oh, God! For murder?” he asked.
    “No, for being too damn handsome,” I joked. Jack seemed concerned. His face got slightly red. His jawbones clinched and released. I thought he might bite his tongue.
    “This is horrible,” gasped Jack. “If Ameleth thinks I killed her lover, she’ll never talk to me again!” With a sudden whoosh and kerchunk, the elevator doors flew open. I couldn’t help but look. A woman stood in the center of the car, her wild brown and gray hair frizzed out from the humidity. She wore white cross-trainers, a sports bra and brown leggings. Ameleth Bergen couldn’t have been more than five-foot-one. The proportions were sublime, but in miniature. Her gray eyes scanned the room with a wild panic. “What the fuck is this?” she asked no one in particular. “Cops at the front door. No one at the front fucking desk.” She spotted Janey on the treadmill and glared.
    “Ameleth,” Jack almost begged. “Barney was murdered, but I didn’t do it.” He didn’t mince meats. Nor words. I liked that in a client.
    Ameleth’s tan face froze. Except for her lips. “Bastard,” she snarled. To one of the uniforms, she said, “Where’s Barney?” The man pointed toward the Jacuzzi room. She sprang at the door and flung it open with a tiny grunt. I jogged gracefully over to the open doorway to watch. I didn’t see much. Ameleth walked over on the wet wood planks and stood over Barney’s corpse. He was still on his stomach. Despite the protests of the cops, Ameleth flipped him faceup. His shiny head lulled to one side. His mouth hung open.
    “He loved to sit in the Jacuzzi for hours,” Ameleth recounted. “And he loved when I rubbed his head with energizing oils. Now, he’s dead. Fuck.” Ameleth began to cry.
    “Mrs. Bergen, why don’t you step outside?” asked Falcone. She stood at my side in the doorway. Jack was behind me. I hadn’t realized we were gawking.