Director's Cut Read Online Free PDF Page A

whispered.
    â€œEd . . . Hey, aren’t you—”
    â€œYes, she is,” West interrupted. “The body is in back.”
    They got the hint and moved through the house.
    â€œThank you, Detective.”
    â€œDon’t mention it.” He gave her one of his patented smiles. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask some questions.”
    â€œI understand,” Catherine said. She looked like a china doll that had been rolled down a rocky slope.
    â€œPerhaps you should start from the beginning.”
    I spoke up. “I drove Catherine home from—”
    West raised a hand. “Excuse me, Mayor, but as you said, this is Ms. Anderson’s home, Ms. Anderson’s pool, and Ms. Anderson’s chauffeur. I would like to hear from her first.”
    â€œI was just trying—”
    â€œJust trying to help. I know.” He turned back to Catherine and raised an eyebrow.
    She cleared her throat and told West how I had met her at her rehearsal, how she had tried to reach Mr. Lowe, and how I had driven her home. That part flowed easily enough, but when she got to the part about seeing the body in the pool, a tear slipped down her smooth cheek. She told it anyway.
    â€œI can’t see the pool from here,” West said. “How could you see the body?”
    â€œI was on the stairs. Maddy had just opened the drapes. With the drapes open you can see the whole backyard, even the lower areas.”
    â€œThen what?”
    â€œMaddy told me to call 9–1–1 and I did. I gave the operator all the information, then ran after Maddy. When I got there she had pulled Ed . . . the body, to the side of the pool. I helped her crawl out.”
    West looked at me. “You jumped in?”
    I nodded. “I thought I saw the man move. I thought maybe he had fallen in and hit his head. When I got to him, I saw how wrong I was.”
    â€œBut you still had the presence of mind to pull him to the side of the pool.”
    â€œI guess. I wasn’t doing a lot of thinking at the time. I was just acting on instinct.”
    Turning back to Catherine, West asked, “How long have you known Mr. Lowe?”
    â€œAbout a year. He drove for me during the filming of my first movie. We did a lot of shooting in Southern California.”
    â€œSo he’s your regular chauffeur?”
    â€œHe’s not my chauffeur. I mean, I don’t pay him. The studio does. After we finish shooting this movie, I’ll be on my own again. Thankfully. I hate being driven around.”
    I watched West bite his lower lip. Any other place than a murder scene, I might have thought it cute and endearing. He studied Catherine for a moment, then asked, “What was your relationship to Mr. Lowe?”
    â€œMy relationship?” Catherine tilted her head to the side.
    â€œWas he ever more than a chauffeur?”
    â€œJudson West!” I snapped.
    â€œExcuse me?” Catherine replied.
    â€œLet me clear something up here,” West said. “There has been a murder and I am a homicide detective. That means I have to ask questions and some of those are going to be unpleasant. That’s my job.” He looked at me. “You of all people should know that, Mayor. We’ve been through enough together for you to know how this works.”
    He was right, of course, and I almost hated him for it.
    â€œHe was my chauffeur and nothing else, Detective. Ed was kind, polite, and always the gentleman.” She stared him hard in the eyes. “Is that clear enough? He was old enough to be my father.”
    â€œWhat did you do after you helped Mayor Glenn out of the pool?”
    â€œI came back in the house and made another call,” Catherine said.
    â€œTo whom?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” she said.
    â€œI’ll decide that, Ms. Anderson. Whom did you call?”
    â€œFrank Zambonelli—Franco, actually. He’s my publicist.”
    â€œYour