Malicious Mischief (A Rylie Keyes Mystery) (Entangled Select) Read Online Free PDF Page A

had the coffee with me.”
    Zach eyed the Vespa ditched in the field, and turned back to Solo. “With you? Where?”
    “In my vest.” He tugged it open to show the stowed licorice. “I could fit a whole meal in here. It’s my brother’s vest, actually.”
    “Oh yeah, which one? Big, Bad, or Beastly?” Zach asked in reference to the three oldest Namulau’ulu brothers who play for the Seattle Seahawks.
    Solo let out a half laugh. “No way could I wear their stuff. They’re way too small. No, this here is my little brother Atomic’s vest. He let me wear it on account of it matching my lava-lava.” He patted a hand to his sarong-like skirt. “I like to match.”
    Confusion sparkled in Zach’s eyes. “Why haven’t I heard of this younger brother before? Don’t tell me he’s also in the NFL.”
    “Guilty as charged,” Solo said. “He just got drafted. Went in the first round. He’s going to tough it out as a Packer, on account of how he hates snow.”
    “And here you gave up all of that to someday be in the circus.”
    “Roger, that.” Solo tucked away the Thermos.
    “Wake up, man. It’s the NFL,” Zach said.
    “And give up my circus dream? Are you kidding?”
    “Sorry.” Zach shook his head. “Stupid of me.”
    Wishing to end this ongoing disagreement between them, I touched Zach’s arm. “What did Leland say? Am I fired?”
    “I left a voicemail and text message,” he said. “No reply yet.”
    “That’s odd. Where could he be at this hour?”

    We settled inside the squad car, me in the backseat, Zach and Solo up front. Outside: sloppy drizzle. Inside: Solo whistling, Zach drumming his fingers, me riled with nervous tension.
    Falling into a brief account of last night, I steered clear of reasoning why someone would want to kill Otto Weiner. Fact was I found his murder sad—I did—but not shocking. As Solo had said, the man was super nasty.
    “So the fundraiser was like all the others?” Zach asked. “No arguments?”
    “None that I noticed. People checked out the donations and made their bids. We ate, then most everyone left. Only a small crowd stayed for the bonfire, mostly seniors.”
    “And Otto was there?” Zach asked.
    “No, he stayed back at FoY. It was the Sabbath.”
    “Then you drove the seniors back to FoY? One trip or two?” Zach asked.
    “One,” I said. “The van holds fifteen. Like I said, we had a small group.”
    “And the trash bags, when were they loaded into the van?”
    “Toward the end of the night, Leland did it. He asked me to dump them in the laboratory’s Dumpsters. I tossed in the last bag while he stood guard.”
    “Guard over what?”
    “Two seniors, Elsa Utterback and Gilad Kupper.”
    “Gilad Kupper, as in Leland’s uncle, the retired Nazi hunter?”
    “Not to mention a germaphobe,” Solo said. “You know, when I spot him in weight room, he sanitizes the bar afterward. Like I’m a leper, or something.”
    “That’s Gilad, all right,” I said. “Elsa and he were arguing. Elsa threatened to walk home. Leland calmed her down. She falls sometimes, balance issues. Inner ear problem, I think.”
    “Did you look inside the van before Leland loaded the trash?”
    “No. Not that it matters. Otto wasn’t at the fundraiser.”
    Zach appeared to reconsider. “So you left the van for how long at FoY?”
    “I never left. The night staff helped the seniors inside. I waited behind the wheel. Then I drove to Suicide Trestle.”
    Solo shot me an anxious look over his shoulder.
    “Zach already knows,” I assured him. “I spilled the beans earlier.”
    “How long you two going to keep that up?” Zach asked.
    “We’re doing a good thing,” Solo told him, “And it’s a karma lift. You gotta rally behind anything that saves lives.”
    “Save anyone yet?” Zach asked, with a hint of mirth in his voice. “Or even see a jumper?”
    “Nope,” I said, sighing.
    Zach grinned. “I know that sigh. You’re thinking of quitting. Good. I see a