Dead Men's Tales (Olivia Grant Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

She made sure her alimony increased annually for inflation."
    I felt my mouth drop open. Which of the ninety thousand lawyers in California thought that one up?
    "However, she only gets three hundred thousand a year, and it's not the same as being in control of a million or two. Or being known as the wife of the head of a multinational corporation."
    I shook my head in despair at that sad story. Poor Mona. Only three hundred thousand. And I thought I managed very well on what she'd no doubt consider Starbuck's coffee money. I moved in the wrong circles.
    Depression followed. Not at the thought I didn't have that kind of income but at the picture Rose had painted for me. I didn't want Brad to be right, but her attitude certainly sounded like a motive for murder. She'd admitted she'd gone to the ladies' room. Maybe she went into the linen room first, picked up the statue, and smashed Harry's head with it. Presto! No more divorce or alimony problems for her .
    As quickly as the notion came, I squelched it. Rose was no stranger, in spite of the years that had passed since we'd been close friends. The real Rose Hammond, the person I knew, wouldn't harm a killer bee.
    "Rose, I know you didn't murder Harry."
    "The police think so. Their attitude made it perfectly clear, even if they didn't have a reason to put me in jail."
    I changed the subject again. "Exactly what will happen now that Harry's gone? Not your personal finances. I mean the business. Will you inherit it?"
    "The company is privately owned. I'll inherit more shares, but I might have no say in the running of it." She stiffened again and clipped her words. "Probably Amanda will be in charge. Perhaps you should question her . In my opinion, she's the one with a motive for murder."
    I tried for a reassuring smile. "I'm certain the police agree."
    "And Brad? Will he investigate Amanda too?"
    "Oh, yes. Very thoroughly. He's probably doing that right now." I got up to leave. "I'm so sorry about all this, Rose. I hope my questions didn't make things worse for you."
    "No, of course not. I wanted to talk to you. Please come and see me often. To keep me informed. I want to know everything Brad finds out." We hugged again.
    Driving away, I imagined my friendship with Rose rekindled and planned to see her often in the future. That was, unless Rose killed Harry and ended up living in a six-by-eight roomette with iron instead of damask at the window.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    I stopped for a sandwich-to-go in the coffee shop on the first floor of our building and ate my lunch at the desk in the secretary's office. Furnished similarly to Brad's, it held a swivel chair with a long credenza behind it and two straight chairs against the wall opposite. A philodendron sat on top of a filing cabinet, and prints of the Golden Gate Bridge and Coit Tower hung on the bare white walls. I bought the latter from a street artist in the Embarcadero.
    After lunch, I typed up my conversation with Rose into the computer, printed it out, and added it to the pages I'd already put in the Hammond file.
    In spite of the circumstances, seeing Rose again made me feel younger for a little while. I remembered the long talks we had over coffee at a kitchen table, carpooling to club meetings, shopping trips to the mall. Yet, when I thought of the dinners and other times our husbands had been with us, my spirits drooped. Perhaps, now that we were both widows, we could start our friendship over again. I just hoped she hadn't killed Harry.
    At one-thirty, Brad returned. I jumped up from my chair and followed him into his office. "I saw Rose Hammond. You'll find my notes in the folder."
    He plopped himself in his chair, faced his desk, and reached for the file. "Is she guilty? Should I give up the case?"
    "Of course she's not guilty." My old loyalty returned, but I wondered what he'd make of her admission of marital problems. By this time, Brad had thumbed through several pages of my printed contribution.
    "You not only