Chasing Venus Read Online Free PDF Page B

mother was a
white-haired woman nearly bent double with a dowager’s hump.
    “They didn’t have
children,” Sheila added, then flipped through the slim reporter’s notebook in
which she’d jotted notes on the videotape the crew had already shot and on what
remained to be done that afternoon.
    All told, Reid did not
find the service notable save for an unusually verbose eulogy delivered by the
new widower.   Eventually it wound to
a close.   Mourners filed out behind
the coffin.
    “I’ll catch up with
you,” Reid told Sheila, and without waiting for a response plunged into the
thick of the departing crowd.   She’d
be surprised by him abandoning her but he knew she could manage the B-roll and
interviews on her own.   And there
was something he wanted to do.
    Something that’ll advance the story , he told himself, keeping his
eyes on the brunette ahead of him, who was walking swiftly now, unencumbered by
her friend in the wheelchair.
    Reid got stalled by a
crowd in the church’s narrow vestibule and managed to extricate himself only
with a few gentle shoves.   On the
street out front, he spied her halfway down the hill to the right.   Then she made another right and
disappeared from view.
    He caught up with her
at the base of the hill as she was unlocking a powder-blue Honda
parallel-parked in front of an Art Deco apartment building.   “I’m thinking it’s time for me to
introduce myself.”   He held out his
hand.   “Reid Gardner.”
    “I already know your
name.”   She ignored his hand,
instead swinging the driver’s side door open.   If he hadn’t hopped backward it would
have slammed into a part of his anatomy he’d rather not injure.
    “Ah.   Well.   I apologize for not introducing myself
earlier, Annette.”   She didn’t react
to his use of her name.   She simply
tossed her handbag in the passenger seat, then peeled off her black jacket and
threw that inside as well.   “Where
is Michael Ellsworth, by the way?”
    No reaction to his
familiarity with her friend in the wheelchair, either.   “He went to the funeral lunch with my
agent.”
    “You’re not
going?”   Reid lay his hands on the
driver’s-side door as she settled herself in the car.
    “I have a manuscript to
write.   So I’m going home to write
it.”   She tugged on the inner handle
of the door but he didn’t release it.   “Will you give me back my car door, please?”
    “Look, it’s like
this.”   He opened the door all the
way and crouched with one knee on the asphalt, so their eyes were level.   “My show is doing a segment on the
murders and I’d like to talk with you about them.   As I said before, maybe I could put you
on camera for a couple of questions.”
    “I’m sure that’s a very
nice offer but I’m going to pass.”   She poked the key into the ignition and turned it.   The engine revved into life.
    “You would provide a
unique perspective.   You’re an
up-and-coming member of the mystery community.   I expect you’d have insights I wouldn’t
get elsewhere.”
    “Be that as it may, I’m
really not interested.   Why don’t you go to the funeral lunch?   I’m sure you’d find lots of takers
there.”  
    He hated to admit it
but thought he was probably beat.   He rose but didn’t step away from the car.   “By the way, on the flight up today I
read the beginning of Devil’s Cradle .”
    She was staring out the
Honda’s front window but he could see her battle her desire to ask the question
any author would be sorely tempted to ask.   As he hoped, she couldn’t resist.   “What did you think of it?”
    “I thought it was
really good.   Very gripping.   Made me want to read more.”
    “Well, I guess you can
do that on your flight home.”
    This time he stepped
away from the car.   “If I don’t get
too distracted by the author’s photo.”   Then he shut the door but kept his eyes on the woman inside.
    She sped away from the
curb without giving him