No One Left to Tell Read Online Free PDF Page A

anymore. And admittedly, his brown herringbone sport jacket, with its dated elbow patches, should have remained hidden in the back of his closet. But Tony was her partner, for better or worse. Today just happened to tip the scales on the side of worse.
    "You clean up good. But I miss your old man's Cubs hat." He winked.
    Most of last night, she'd debated what she'd wear to the Dunhill mansion. Her navy pantsuit hid all her usual accessories of gun, badge, and handcuffs. So function won out. For fashion's sake, she left the ankle-strapped .38 in her locker at work. This hour of the morning, a massive shoot-out seemed unlikely at the posh estate. And with the welcoming committee out front, she'd be severely outgunned.
    "Before we get in there, let's talk game plan, Raven. What did you find out about Fiona Dunhill?"
    She shifted her weight in the front seat and turned to her partner. "From what I've researched, Dunhill Corporation doesn't fund all this grandeur. That's just a smokescreen. The real money came from the illegal arms trading of Charles Dunhill, the late husband of Fiona."
    "Yeah, kinda remember him from the old days. To tell you the truth, I was kinda surprised a socialite like Fiona Dunhill would've taken over the business after her old man's murder. Crime families run by women are so rare, but I guess it's not unheard of," Tony reflected. He turned his gaze toward the front door. "And she's evidently doing a damned fine job of it."
    "But she's still involved with that dirty little business, Tony. Or maybe she's just turned a blind eye to it." Furrowing her brow, she corrected herself. "Actually, from what I've read, she took that side of the business and went underground, laundering the dirty money with the legitimate end of her investments."
    Raven's life had been about order and the law. So a woman like Fiona Dunhill didn't add up in her book. But she knew her partner would temper her strong tendency toward black and white. Tony was far more pragmatic, better able to tolerate the gray in their world.
    "I'll give her this, the woman's a total contradiction. And she's pretty shrewd, not being caught and all. Hard to track that kind of money trail." He shook his head.
    "So, what else do we want out of this visit?" Raven prompted.
    "You heard the chief—quick and by the book. Kind of pie in the sky to think we can bring her down on all her illegal activities, no matter how tempting that might be. But we've got a murder to solve." Reaching for the door handle, Tony looked concerned. "I just hope she doesn't erect any major roadblocks."
    Raven stepped from the car and slammed the door. She felt the thrill of the chase as she caught Tony's eye, but butterflies the size of vultures were cavorting in the pit of her stomach.
    "Come on, partner. Game face on. We're crossing the line."
    In the hallway of the second floor, Fiona gazed at her reflection in the ornate gold-framed mirror. The same dark green eyes stared back, but the intensity of youth was long gone. Or maybe her tired expression had more to do with the news she'd heard from the guards at the front gate. Two police detectives were now in the parlor, waiting for her.
    "We are not punished for our sins, but by them," she muttered.
    Short, auburn hair streaked with gray framed her face. Mindlessly, she tugged at its strands. Her once-flawless complexion looked pale in this light, without the blush of youth. She'd grown accustomed to the deepening lines on her face. But this morning, they were more pronounced and showed every one of her fifty-four years. While her socialite friends were being jabbed with syringes of Botox or scheduling discreet facelifts, she had been determined to live with every crease. She would accept her penance with grace.
    "Time to face the music."
    With her hand sliding along the banister, Fiona took her time coming down the steps. Her pale blue silk ensemble clung to her body. The fitted material made her feel manacled. She kept her eyes