Murder Over Cocktails: The 2nd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

some houses.”
    Jack thought about it for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said. “You can get the current listings at Millennium. Her name will be on the flyers for houses she’s showing.”
    “Want to come along?”
    “No, thanks. You can drop me at your office.”
    “Okay. I should probably change before I go house hunting anyway.”
    I drove Jack back to the marina. He offered to walk me to my office, but I told him I was going down to my boat, so he walked me to the security gate, probably to keep me from following him to wherever he was parked.
    I unlocked the gate and turned to tell him I’d page him if I had anything to report. He was standing very close. I seldom back away when someone steps into my personal space. It’s something I picked up from my father. Dad was born a Cossack and he never backed down from anyone, except my mother. She was a former nun and could intimidate him with nothing more than a look.
    “Be careful, Nicoli,” he said. “I’d feel terrible if anything happened to you.”
    He put a hand on my shoulder and reached behind me to hold the gate open.
    “I’ll page you,” I said, my voice husky.
    Jack gave me a Cheshire cat smile as I pivoted away from him, moving toward the companionway. A few steps down the ramp I glanced over my shoulder. He was gone. I walked back up to the gate and looked around. He was really gone. I went outside and scanned the office complex and the parking lot. No sign of him in any direction. Goose bumps erupted on my arms and the back of my neck. He seemed to have a habit of causing them. I shook my head in wonder as I ambled down to the dock.

Chapter 7

    R egardless of how precocious she was, Margaret Sullivan was still only eight, and easy prey for the older girls at the Juvenile Hall. A pair of teen-age lesbians took a particular interest in her. The girls, who were extremely well behaved in front of authority figures, successfully petitioned to have Margaret transferred to their room, where they forced their attentions on her with some regularity. Margaret was terrified of being held captive and repulsed by the hungry way they looked at and touched her, but the real hell began when she recovered from the initial shock of the assaults and realized that she enjoyed them.
    Being raised by Irish Catholic parents, coupled with the teachings of the holy sisters at St. Theresa’s, had a predictable impact on Margaret’s psyche. The pleasure she took from being caressed by other girls was impossible for her to reconcile.
    By the time her two weeks at juvenile hall were up and she returned home, she had become quiet and withdrawn. Although she no longer argued with her parents, she would never forgive them for what they had done to her, and she loathed herself for her own weakness.
    When Margaret stopped acting out, her parents assumed their tough love approach to discipline had been a success, but they felt guilty for sending her away. The more she withdrew and suppressed her anger, the more money they spent rewarding her behavior. The message was clear—if she wanted to be valued she had to hide her feelings. Unfortunately, Margaret soon discovered that her rage could only be repressed for limited periods of time before she was forced to find an outlet.
    After her time in juvenile hall Margaret no longer sought the company of her childhood friends, instead channeling all of her energy into her studies.
    When she was twenty-one her parents were killed in a plane crash on their way to visit family in Ireland. Margaret experienced a flood of emotional relief at their death, which amplified the guilt she already felt, plunging her further into darkness.
    A few months after her parents’ passing Margaret received a check for their life insurance benefits, and was informed by their attorney that she was the sole beneficiary of their estate. Shortly thereafter she made an appointment with a prominent plastic surgeon and acquired a pair of double D-cup