Elizabeth Zelvin - Bruce Kohler 04 - Death Will Save Your Life Read Online Free PDF

cracking.”
    “Suppose Mel and Annabel did have a thing going,” Barbara said. “Maybe they hiked up there together.”
    “To see the sunrise?”
    “To make love—or both.”
    “Don’t you think it was premeditated?” I asked. “Somebody hiked all the way up there toting a luggage strap, the perfect weapon for a strangler.”
    “An Aquarius rainbow luggage strap,” Barbara said. “It could have been a sex toy.”
    “Oh, yeah?” I said, while Jimmy made horrible faces at me behind Barbara’s back. “Like what?”
    Barbara’s face brightened in a blend of perky and clinical that’s unique to her. “There’s erotic asphyxiation—although I guess it’s not auto erotic if you’ve got a partner helping you—and there’s bondage. Or they could have used it as a doggie leash.”
    “Too much information, peanut,” Jimmy said with commendable restraint.
    “That’s fascinating, Barb,” I said, just to bust his chops. “Go on.”
    “Cut it out, dude,” Jimmy said.
    “Okay, okay. So maybe they have a lovers’ quarrel about who gets to take who for walkies, and—”
    “Dude!”
    “But in that case, why didn’t she just push him over the cliff?”
    “When you don’t have answers, ask more questions,” Barbara said. “I’m going to the kitchen to schmooze with Feather some more.”
    “They’ll be busy getting ready for lunch,” Jimmy said.
    “So I’ll eavesdrop. I’ll lurk.”
    “Lurk, she says!” To Jimmy, lurking is something you do on the Internet. “You’re not a ninja, pumpkin. Be careful, will you?”
    “Yes, dear.”
    That versatile phrase, we all knew, meant Barbara would do what she wanted.
    “And don’t antagonize Madhouse. The man wields knives for a living,” Jimmy said. “Big knives. ”
    “Then if he were the murderer,” Barbara said, “he would have used a knife. It’s perfectly safe, Jimmy. I’ll be fine .”

    Barbara peered around the kitchen door. Madhouse and Feather stood at a scarred and stained slab of butcher block, swathed in unbleached linen aprons over their tie-dyed garments. Madhouse hacked at a giant watermelon with a massive cleaver. Feather fluffed bean sprouts, her arms buried to the elbows in a big bowl.
    “So hitchhike into town and call the lawyer.” Madhouse spoke through clenched teeth. “He always promised he’d take care of you.”
    “Oh, Madhusudhana! As if I could think about that right now!” Feather sniffled and twisted in an attempt to wipe her nose on her shoulder without removing her hands from the bean sprouts.
    “You’d better think about it, you moronic twat,” Madhouse said. “I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life slinging tofu in this two-bit Utopia.”
    Feather shrank away from him. Barbara, ears and cheeks hot with indignation, had to restrain herself from charging in and calling down the wrath of the Goddess.
    “A few months in India with one of the more enlightened gurus,” Madhouse said, as if South Asia abounded in gurus who failed to meet his standards, “would add to my credibility. And I need to see Katmandu. Lhasa too, if I can get there.”
    “You don’t even like mountains,” Feather squeaked.
    “Idiot! I don’t like climbing. You need to get the lawyer to tell you how much you come in for. It’s got to be seven figures. The advance on that last book alone—he left most of it to you when he redid the will after that bitch Annabel split, didn’t he? I bet he didn’t change that much when he remarried. He had to know the wives would come and go from now on, at his age.” Not spiritual at all—oh, poor Feather. “Once the estate’s distributed, we can travel as comfortably as we want.”
    Barbara had heard enough. She flung the swinging door wide.
    “Feather! Hi! Can you come out and talk a minute?”
    Feather cast a nervous glance at Madhouse.
    “Go, go, you’re useless in this state.”
    He sounded personally offended that bereavement interfered with a woman’s ability to chop