Death hits the fan Read Online Free PDF

great. I mean Ted here did the whole alien-left-on-earth shtick first, right?" She turned to Ted. He shrugged his shoulders, his long, morose face impassive. "I mean, she wasn't even that original—"
    "I beg your pardon," Mr. Quadrini threw back, his face suddenly red under his well-groomed wavy hair. "I'll be blunt. Neither you, Ms. Cassell, nor you, Mr. Brown, was even in the same class with S.X. Greenfree. She was a real writer, a truly brilliant woman, and for anyone to say different is just, just.. ."
    "Irreverent," Zoe put in helpfully, diffidently. Then her round face pinkened and she looked down at her lap.
    Zoe's terminological helpfulness wasn't making any friends for her with Yvette or Ted, that was for sure. Yvette's tiny head had reared back with Quadrini's blunt evaluation and even Ted's gloomy face had showed a spark of something, annoyance maybe.
    "Yes, irreverent, exactly," Mr. Quadrini continued with a small bow of his head Zoe's way. "Thank you, young woman. That is exactly the word I was searching for, irreverent—"
    "Oh, come on," Yvette began. "All this real writer shi-stuff is—"
    But Captain Xavier interrupted her with a raised hand. And I was glad he did. Mr. Quadrini was out of his chair now, his hand balled into a fist. More than twenty years ago, when I worked in a mental hospital, I'd run group therapy sessions in the violent ward where the interaction was friendlier than in this group. Of course, the patients had been on medication. But still—

    "And your name, if you please," the captain asked, turning his high beams on Yvette.
    Yvette gave her name and her husband's name, as Mr. Quadrini sank back into his chair. Then she began to talk about her leprechaun-sleuth series but the captain interrupted once again to ask if she or her husband lived in Ver-duras. Strike two. She and Lou were also out-of-towners. For what it was worth. And the territorial information seemed to be worth something to Xavier. Though I wasn't sure exactly what it was worth.
    "She really was a good writer," a wistful voice put in before Yvette could continue. The captain turned his head toward the speaker. "I'm Winona Eads," she added quickly. "I live in Morris, and I, I..." Tears came into the red-haired young woman's eyes as she struggled to go on. The heater belched hot air as if in sympathy. "How could she die? She was like . .. like, really cool and no way, no way . .."
    The front door opened again and Ivan's seventeen-year-old son, Neil, bustled in with the cold air. I would have known he was Ivan's son even if I hadn't met him before. He had the same bulldog features as his father, however much younger he was.
    "Hey, Dad, what's the deal?" he demanded. "There's a cop car and—"
    But his flow of words stopped abruptly as his eyes flickered to the group in the circle of chairs and fastened on Winona Eads.
    "Hey, Winona!" he cried in concern. "What's the matter?"
    He rushed around the chairs toward the redhead, but his feet stopped and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of Shayla Greenfree's body stretched out behind the authors' table. The room was quiet for a moment except for the splatter of rain outside.
    Then he tried again. "Hey, what's the deal—?"

    "There's been a . . . a . . ." Ivan struggled, keeping his voice low.
    "A most unfortunate incident," Captain Xavier finished for the bookseller. "And who might you be?"
    "Huh?" Neil answered. He looked back at Winona, at his father, and then back at Shayla's body again. "Huh?"
    "My boy," Ivan growled, closing his eyes for a moment before he got up and walked over to his son to put a fatherly arm around him. "Listen, Neil, why don't you go on home? We need to work things out here—"
    "No way," Neil replied, a familiar bulldog expression replacing his wide-eyed one. "Mom said—" He stopped himself mid-sentence and looked back at Winona.
    Ivan removed his arm with a sigh known to parents of teenagers all over the world.
    "I understand, I understand," PMP