Half Life (Russell's Attic Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

mountain estates. The rich get to have the best of both worlds: a secluded mountain hideaway that’s still smack in central Los Angeles, right next to Hollywood and fifteen minutes from downtown.
    Los Angeles is such a culture of entitlement. It just figured that all the movie stars—and mob bosses—were able to have their cake and eat it, too, even when it came to real estate.
    The address Checker had given me was up a twisting road that seemed graded far too steeply to be a good idea, especially considering the skill level of the average LA driver. I parked precariously around a blind curve and wondered how people who couldn’t do snap calculations of gravity versus static frictional force managed.
    Since this was—at least for now—a civilized visit, I went up to the iron gates and rang at the intercom. I heard a click and a buzz, and then an impersonal voice said, “Yes?”
    “My name is Cas Russell,” I said, hoping Benito hadn’t copped out on me. “I’m here to see Madame Lorenzo.”
    After a brief silence—during which I automatically did all the calculations I’d need to vault the gate and be inside the estate before anyone could react—the intercom buzzed and the gate swung open on creakingly slow automated mechanics. I headed toward the house and tried to figure out which part of the grandiose architecture was supposed to be the front door.
    Once I found it, a housekeeper let me into a polished foyer with a high, vaulted ceiling. Everything was spotless—the crystalline lighting fixtures, the ornate side tables, even the gleaming vases of fresh lilies that adorned them. The housekeeper took me through a maze of rooms (seriously, what did they do with so many rooms?) to the back of the house. I glimpsed panoramic vistas of the city through some of the windows, where the mountain dropped away to reveal spectacular views.
    The housekeeper knocked lightly on a door, then opened it slightly and gestured for me to enter. Surprised at not being asked to wait, I pushed the door open and found myself in an opulent but tasteful study that was rich in dark wood and leather furnishings. It was a large room for a study, and all the way at the other end, seated behind a long, sleek desk like a woman on a throne and attending to a neat stack of paperwork on her blotter, was Mama Lorenzo herself.
    She stood as I entered. I guessed her age at somewhere near fifty, and she was a very tall woman, with a figure that suggested she dieted aggressively and kept a personal trainer on retainer. She was sheathed in an ivory cocktail dress with lines severe enough to make it seem like it should be called a business suit instead, and which had definitely cost more than every item of clothing I owned combined. Her dark hair was pinned up in elegant perfection without a single strand out of place, and her makeup was exquisite and dramatic, all contrasts of shadow and scarlet.
    “Miss Russell,” she greeted me. “Please, sit down. I only have a moment, but my son speaks quite highly of you, and he told me you wished to speak with some urgency.”
    Her son? Oh. Oops. “Thanks,” I said, dropping into one of the leather chairs across from her desk. She reseated herself in a way that made me feel entirely ungraceful. I took a deep breath. “I won’t waste your time. I’m here because I believe you’ve made threats against a friend of mine for sleeping with your niece.”
    Her well-shaped eyebrows rose. “Ah—I see. Your friend is the computer specialist, then?”
    “Yes.”
    Mama Lorenzo lifted a white china teacup that was so thin it was almost transparent from a saucer at her elbow and took a thoughtful sip. Then she said, “I’m afraid I cannot help you in this matter. I have no quarrel with you, but your friend’s offense must be dealt with.”
    “What offense?” I cried. “Come on, this isn’t the nineteenth century. Your niece wanted to have some fun; they had some fun. From what I understand, that sort of