Killer Heels Read Online Free PDF Page B

grows up.”
    “Thanks for the support, Madame Supreme Court Justice,” I sniped back. Cassady being right was beside the point. She didn’t have to be so bitchy about it.
    “Wait a minute.” Tricia was working to catch the train. “Molly, you’re going to use your friend’s death as a stepping stone in your career?”
    “That’s not why,” I protested.
    “You’re such a Good Samaritan that you’re going to thrust yourself, completely inexperienced and unwelcome, into the middle of a murder investigation,” Cassady said. “And get a feature article out of it along the way.”
    To hear Cassady say it, out loud and with that special tartness of hers, didn’t help. I could feel my resolve slipping. It probably was silly of me to think that I could help New York’s Finest solve a murder. And if Detective Lipscomb thought it was a robbery gone wrong, he was speaking from experience and, chances are, he was right. Just because I have this little flair for the dramatic and I’m always looking for a big story-behind-the-story doesn’t mean that there was really more to Teddy’s murder than met the eye.
    I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a holdover from a dalliance with yoga last year. It didn’t help. I could feel my new cheekbones dissolving. Tricia reached across the table and put her hand gently on mine. Tricia has these delicate little hands that are always cool and dry. They’d be perfect, except she picks at her cuticles and can’t wear nail polish for more than about three hours before she starts chipping it off with whatever’s handy. We used to go get our nails done every Saturday morning, but Yooni, the salon manager, told Tricia she couldn’t come back until she started respecting their artistry and stopped chipping the polish. “You need to do what you think is right, Molly.” She left her hand on mine and smiled reassuringly. Leave it to Tricia to make it about doing the right thing.
    Cassady leaned in, making a big deal about giving me an appraising look. I should have known trouble was coming. “This isn’t about helping or about a big break. This is about an incredibly handsome homicide detective.”
    That wasn’t it, but I still couldn’t articulate my reasons. Besides, when I saw how Tricia brightened, I decided to let it go. “How incredibly handsome?” Tricia asked, and I could see from the set of her mouth she was willing me to follow this new, lighter path of conversation.
    I actually found myself starting to smile. “Moderately incredible.”
    “What’s his name?” Tricia looked like she was about to start taking notes.
    “Detective Edwards.”
    “Does he have a first name?”
    Cassady and I looked at each other, each expecting the other to come up with it. “Don’t think he said,” Cassady admitted.
    “Cassady was too busy trying to bed the babyface in uniform, so she wasn’t paying much attention.” I patted my pockets and found Detective Edwards’ business card. “Kyle,” I read.
    “Great name,” Tricia nodded approvingly. “Single?”
    “No ring,” I answered.
    “You looked,” Cassady said triumphantly. “I knew you liked him.”
    “Looking isn’t a sign of liking, it’s a sign of being alive,” I countered.
    “Still, you liked him.”
    “Swear to God, I haven’t thought about it.” Back in the office, with Teddy on the floor, it had seemed wrong to think about it. I had appreciated Detective Edwards—all the cops—on an instinctive aesthetic level. Anything beyond that, though, would have been inappropriate, like hitting on someone at a funeral. It seems wrong to look for action in a setting where the guest of honor can’t possibly get lucky. Of course, Cassady once did pick up a guy at her uncle’s funeral and had sex with him in the back of the florist’s truck, but that’s Cassady. And even she will tell you she threw her neck out, the relationship went nowhere, and she can no longer stand the smell of lilies.
    But now that