Death by the Riverside Read Online Free PDF

to the house.
    A servant answered the door and didn’t look too thrilled to see the likes of me. Bravely I forged ahead.
    “I need to see Mr. Holloway.”
    “Is Mr. Holloway expecting you?”
    “I doubt it,” I said. “But I have some film to give him.” The servant didn’t look convinced. “It’s a companion piece to the pictures he got two days ago.” I was guessing Karen had hightailed it over here with Harry’s pictures.
    “Follow me,” the servant said and led me to a sitting room, then told me to wait there.
    I didn’t wait long, fortunately, because money does not guarantee taste, as this sitting room proved.
    The person who entered the room was not Ignatious Holloway.
    “What do you want?” she said, even less thrilled than the servant to see me. I just held up the film.
    “Harry? We already know,” she said, turning to leave.
    “No. Karen.”
    She turned back and looked at me. She was about my age and perhaps even taller than me (or perhaps it was just the light). Dark auburn, almost black hair, blue eyes. Not bad, even if she was a Holloway. I assumed that this was the Cordelia Danny had mentioned.
    “Doing?” she asked. She didn’t waste words.
    “Illicit sexual acts with a woman.”
    “You? Never mind. What do you want?”
    Karen entered the scene. She looked the least thrilled of anyone to see me. “What are you doing here?” she demanded
    I held the film where she could see it.
    “I didn’t think you’d be real happy out here all by yourself, eaten up with guilt over how you cheated your only brother out of his inheritance.”
    She caught on. I saw it in her eyes and the way she hissed, “You bitch,” at me. “Give me that,” Karen continued. “You’re lying.” She started for me with her hand out for the film. She was used to people following her orders.
    I’m used to disobeying orders. I moved away, putting a fake rococo table between us.
    “Okay. How much do you want?”
    To be honest, I was tempted. Visions of paid bills danced through my head. Stockpiles of cat food, perhaps a new bed…
    “I’m not for sale.” My dad always told me that you could live without almost anything but not without self-respect. Since I had very little else, I did need that. “I don’t like you, Karen. I don’t like the things you do, and I don’t like what you stand for. You used me to get your brother. I’m paying you back.” I turned to Cordelia. “I would like to give this to your grandfather. Will you take me to him?”
    Karen let out a string of obscenities and came around the table after me. There’s a move in karate that’s like a kick, but all you’re really doing is putting your foot out so that your opponent will run into it. It was easy to stop Karen that way. But it didn’t do much for shutting her up.
    “What is going on here?” a voice boomed. Two men entered, one leaning heavily on the arm of the other.
    It took me only a moment to figure out which one was Holloway. Partly from the way attention was turned on him when he entered, partly from the attitude of the man whose arm he held for support. But the eyes confirmed it. The same shade of blue confronted me from three sets of eyes. Holloway’s, Cordelia’s, and Karen’s were all the same perfect aristocratic blue, though, I suspected, only by seeing them together would the resemblance be noticeable. Because other than that blue there was very little else alike in their eyes. Karen’s were downcast and ringed with mascara, Holloway’s faded in the surrounding sagging skin and wrinkles. Cordelia’s were cool and direct, as if she didn’t want to be here watching this, but couldn’t help finding some interest in the spectacle.
    I vaguely recognized the other man, with his distinguished face and perfectly cut silver hair, from the society pages, but since I never read the columns, I didn’t know his name. Someone in the same league as Holloway. It was he who had spoken. Since Karen’s blue streak could