No Cure for Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

you.”
    “What are you so happy about?”
    “Nothing.” She smiled again.
    Jacob rose from his desk and walked toward the door to greet Dr. Spelling. Before he could utter a word, a beautiful and very tall woman looking like a fashion model embraced him.
    She kissed him on the cheek. “Dr. Weizman, finally we meet. The way grandpa talks about you, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”
    Zoe paused, then sniffed Jacob’s cheek. “You smell like grandpa...that tangy-spicy cologne, what is it?”
    “It’s Pinaud. You smell it in most barbershops. It’s older than your grandfather and me.”
    Jacob was a little shocked by her informality. He straightened his bow tie then looked up into her dark brown eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
    She had chestnut hair to her shoulders and pulled back over her ears to reveal multiple earrings. Her teeth were so bright, he felt himself squinting from their reflection. She wore a form-fitting sundress with spaghetti straps that accentuated her well-toned arms and shoulders. She had a small tattoo of a hummingbird over her left upper arm.
    Jacob absorbed her appearance and felt himself reddening. Thank God I haven’t lost my appreciation for a beautiful woman, he thought.
    Zoe caught him staring and laughed. “It’s okay, Jacob.” She hesitated. “Can I call you Jacob?”
    “Of course, Zoe.”
    “I mean that I’m used to it...men staring at me...and not just the young ones.”
    “I didn’t mean anything improper, Zoe, and anyway, I choose not to spend what’s left of my life on an analyst’s couch.”
    “It means you’re alive, Jacob. Don’t apologize. I like when men look at me...at least some men...when they’re gentlemen.”
    Jacob blushed again. “What can I do for you, Zoe?”
    “Give me a job. Teach me what it’s like to practice today and preserve the old values, then if we like each other and you think my work’s good enough, make me your partner.”
    “Have you picked out your furniture and wall coverings?”
    She smiled. “Grandpa said you liked straight talk.”
    “I do. You just expressed in one sentence what it might take hours of conversation and reading between the lines to elicit.”
    “So, how about it?”
    “You’re sure that you want to get into bed with me,” he smiled, “metaphorically speaking, that is, and my old values?”
    Zoe smiled seductively. “You want me, you got me. I don’t like to brag...well maybe a little, but I have high academic scores, great recommendations from the program directors, and I even won Resident of the Year.”
    “How can I possibly reject the Resident of the Year?”
    “When can I meet Lola? I hear she’s something else.”
    “That’s one way of expressing it.”
     
    Jacob watched as Lola raced around the house with her feathered dust mop. “Enough already.”
    “Don’t tell me what’s enough, Old Man. The house has got to look good for company.”
    “For a brilliant, eighty-five-year-old psychotherapist, don’t you think it strange that you’re acting like our mothers and grandmothers, women whose entire worth depended on their domestic skills?”
    She smiled while caressing Jacob’s cheek. “That’s crap and you know it. Those women gave so much more. You’re a product of their domesticity.”
    Jacob was suddenly quiet. “If only they’d lived to see the fruits of their labor.”
    He gazed out the window to their view of the San Francisco Bay while his mind relived the horrors of a painful past.
    Lola walked through their living room. “This is ritual, I know, but it makes me feel good to see a clean house ready for visitors. It says something about us, our values, and how we feel about our guests.”
    When the doorbell rang, Lola scanned the room once more then took a last look in the mirror, straightening her hair.
    “Welcome,” said Jacob as Zoe Spelling and Byron Harwood entered.
    Zoe kissed Jacob on the cheek. “This is my husband, Professor Byron