Murder Strikes a Pose Read Online Free PDF

his evening reprieve from the struggles of daily life. If I hadn’t known he was destroying his health and shortening his lifespan, I would have found a sort of symmetry and beauty to the simplicity of his existence.
    Every now and then, I’d pick up sandwiches for us at the Phin-
    neyWood Market. On sunny days George, Bella, and I packed up
    our lunches and headed to Greenwood Park, a small oasis of green
    a few blocks north of the studio. This hidden, two-acre play space restored my faith in the untapped potential of the Greenwood
    community.
    Adopted by a group of dedicated neighborhood activists,
    Greenwood Park had recently been transformed from the run-
    down site of a defunct nursery to a beautifully maintained com-
    munity gathering place. The park’s many amenities included
    something for everyone: Pea-Patch vegetable gardens, multi-use
    sport courts, futuristic-looking children’s play areas, and a large open lawn suitable for Frisbee, volleyball, and spirited games of fetch.
    But for the three of us, Greenwood Park was a simply a tran-
    quil place to relax and spend precious minutes chatting in the
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    shade. I liked listening to George’s stories, and he obviously loved telling them.
    Much to my surprise, he had owned a business.
    “It was one of those dot com startups that were all the rage in
    the late nineties. I started the company out of my house, which
    wasn’t all that unusual back then.” He fed Bella the last bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. “What was unusual was that we almost made it. We were this close.” He held up a thumb and forefinger about a quarter inch apart.
    “We worked night and day, and I never had so much fun in my
    life. I wasn’t as young as most of the kids forming the startups in those days, but I could work twice as hard. My partner and I built the company to over fifty employees in three short years. We were growing so fast we could barely keep up.” He smiled and looked
    wistfully off into the distance. Although he gazed toward the playground, his eyes seemed blank—as if he had traveled to some bet-
    ter, far-away place.
    I hated to make him return, but I wanted to hear the end of the
    story. “What happened?”
    He turned back and shrugged. “Bad luck combined with bad
    decisions, I guess. First the tech market hit the dirt; then our investors got nervous. So I took a couple of creative financing risks and, well, let’s just say they didn’t pay off. We went bankrupt almost overnight.” His voice grew sad. “Broke my heart the day I had to
    tell everyone we were closing the doors.”
    As I listened to George’s story, my heart broke too, for him and
    for others like him. The failure he described could happen to anyone, even me. Being forced out of business was my worst night-
    mare—one that might soon come true, if business at the studio
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    didn’t pick up. I didn’t know how to help, so I kept listening, hoping that would be enough.
    “My partner was furious. He never understood the financial
    side of the business, and to be honest, I didn’t tell him about our money issues until it was too late.” George paused, shaking his
    head. “Helluva way to lose a friend.
    “But the worst part was telling those fifty-three people that
    they were out of a job. Several of them had families to support.
    Every single one of them had put 110 percent into building the
    company, assuming their hard work would pay off in the end.” He
    rubbed his eyes, as if even remembering that day left him exhaust-ed. “All for nothing.”
    He stared at the ground for a full minute, the laughter of chil-
    dren paradoxically filling the silence. When he continued, his voice sounded heavy, defeated. “That night I went out and got plastered for the first time. Just couldn’t take how I had let all those people down. One drink became two, became three. The next night,
    three drinks became four, and well, the rest is history.” He absently stroked Bella’s fur.
    “My