Living with the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

for the chick. She lets her tag along with us sometimes. I always told her you shouldn't socialize with the hired help, and now look what happened. The chick flipped out and killed Port in a jealous rage."
    "Was there an issue?"
    Jansen fluttered her hands. "There's always an issue with people like that. They hate us. Finally it just bubbles over and... boom."
    "Boom?"
    "Or 'bang,' I guess. Anyway, they were fighting."
    "About what?"
    "How would I know?"
    "When did this happen?"
    "Right before Portia left us," Jansen said smugly. "The PR chick said something and Portia didn't like it. She told her to call the driver and went to the bathroom."
    Didn't sound like much of a fight to Finn.
    Jansen nibbled a purple-painted fingernail. "Do you think I should, like, get a bodyguard?"
    "I doubt it's an epidemic."
    Her brow furrowed, trying to figure out what he meant. Then she gave up and pulled out her cell phone. "I'm going to get one. Maybe two. You can't be too careful."

 
----
     
    ROBYN
     
    Robyn stood across the road from Bane. She looked down at her cell phone for the umpteenth time, as if the image she wanted was just slow in materializing, like one of those old Polaroid cameras. It was a great shot... of the blurred top of a light-haired head.
    She looked at the club – at the growing crowd, at the reporters, the TV vans, the police cars, the ambulance... and she realized that every step she'd taken since finding Portia's body, as right as it had seemed at the time, had only made her situation worse.
    She'd left her prints on the murder weapon. She'd been spotted fleeing the scene. She'd maybe even been spotted running down the alley. And now, to turn herself in, she'd have to pass the gauntlet of reporters and news cameras.
    A primitive voice in her head screamed for her to run, but she silenced it. That would be the worst thing she could do.
    She imagined a client calling her with this situation. She'd tell him to prepare for a trip to the station... just as soon as she'd made a few calls and gotten professional advice on how to proceed.
    That's what she needed now: professional advice.
     
    She didn't call ahead, just showed up on Judd's doorstep and prayed he was home. Judd Archer was a contract bodyguard Portia hired when she needed extra security, or wanted to look as if she did. He was much in demand in Portia's circles, not so much for his security abilities – which were top-notch – but for the extra services he provided.
    Judd was an ex-cop. Robyn wasn't completely sure what his story was, only that he'd been screwed over by the department. And he was mad as hell about it, which meant he was happy to exact some revenge by advising his clients on ways to deal with the law.
    Judd answered the door on the second ring. Dressed in sweatpants, he rubbed his fist over his bleary eyes.
    "Rob?" He blinked hard. "What's wrong? Portia in trouble?"
    "Not her. Me."
    He frowned, as if he must have misheard.
    "Portia's dead," Robyn said. "And they think I killed her." He backed up and waved her inside.
     
    They were in the kitchen, Robyn on a stool at the island, Judd behind it making coffee.
    Judd had loaned Robyn a sweatsuit. She'd changed into it and carefully folded her dress into a bag, so the police could test it for gunshot residue. Then she told Judd everything.
    "Did you get a look at the detectives?" he asked. "I knew most of the homicide guys in that division."
    "One guy in a suit came out to talk to the officers guarding the scene. Big guy with a craggy face. Dark blond hair in need of a trim. Early thirties, maybe?"
    "Did he have an accent? Texan, I think. Or Oklahoma... No, I guess you wouldn't have been close enough to hear. But it sounds like John Findlay. Hopefully it is. He's a good cop. Might look like a cowboy, but he isn't, not when it comes to police work. Slow, steady and thorough. He won't jump to conclusions or railroad you into a confession."
    Robyn stirred her coffee as she took a deep breath.