A Clean Kill Read Online Free PDF Page B

the way through, the back wall was a bank of French doors that opened on a garden. A blond girl wearing jeans and a sweatshirt leaned against a huge grand piano, talking with a detective April immediately recognized from Mike's description of the CO of his bureau. The detective was called Sergeant Ed Minnow, and everyone called him Fish. As directed, she turned left at the first door and went in. Oops.
    A surprised Chief Avise broke off a conversation to stare at her. What the hell are you doing here?
    She shook her head. He'd given her an assignment less than an hour ago and didn't expect to see her again so soon. But news of homicide traveled fast, and April had a long history of serving on homicide task forces outside her own precinct. He shouldn't be surprised that Mike would call her in for a look-see.
    As he turned away, she was distracted by the splendor of the kitchen. The place had more stainless steel appliances and sinks than she'd ever seen outside a restaurant kitchen. Three sinks, three dishwashers, a huge restaurant stove, a wine refrigerator, two other refrigerators—wow. Pots, pans, and bunches of dried herbs hung from beams in the ceiling. What kind of private home was this? A large glass dining table was surrounded by modern tub chairs. And there was a high chair. She stared at the high chair with dismay. Children always changed the story.
    And then she was aware of Chief Avise moving purposefully in her direction and braced herself for a chewing out.
    "She's with me." Mike said, cutting him off before the tirade began.
    Saved by the cavalry. Her lips curved in a tiny smile. She couldn't help being impressed by her . husband in uniform. No longer the swaggering detective with the flashy mustache and slicked-back hair who'd worn cowboy boots and cologne stronger than any tart's perfume, Mike Sanchez had cleaned up amazingly well. His black hair was short now, his mustache clipped, his aftershave subtle. He'd always been a handsome man, but in uniform he ruled. Next to him, the chief of detectives with his large belly and wrinkled brown suit looked downright sloppy and peevish.
    "Don't push, Mike," the chief threatened, making it clear that April was his detective, not Mike's, so he was the one who decided where she worked.
    "You want a quick resolution to a homicide, you know where to go," Mike replied. He smiled at his gorgeous wife, and she knew he was appreciating her new short haircut and stylish spring suit. She was a willowy five feet five, had delicate features in a classic oval face. Mike's smile told her that she was caught in the political web again, and she knew why.
    The last two murders in this precinct had been solved by Mike and detectives under his old command at the Homicide Task Force. Now that he was no longer in the Detective Bureau, he couldn't call on Homicide Task Force detectives without messing up protocol. If he didn't trust the detectives in' his own precinct to get the job done, he couldn't disrespect them by bringing in his old people. Furthermore he couldn't take on the task himself. Precinct captains did not investigate homicides. They were supposed to walk in, look around, and walk out just like the other brass.
    Good going, Mike—just call in the little woman to take care of things. April kept a straight face and let the former boss and his underling figure it out. Mike and Chief Avise were pack leaders with the same goal but different teams and agendas. One of them had to back down. Finally the chief shrugged. "Fine, let her take a look. Then she goes home." He moved away.
    That's how it was done. Although it didn't appear as if the chief had given in, Mike clearly thought she was in on the case. "Sorry, querida," he mumbled.
    "Who's the victim?" she asked, getting to the point.
"Madeleine Wilson, wife of Wayne Wilson. Remember him?"
    Oh, God. Suddenly it all clicked. That explained the kitchen and Mike calling her. "Oh, that's terrible. Where is she?" April felt bad for