Not One Clue Read Online Free PDF Page A

brain-dead. Not a lot, but—
    “She shot at you?”
    “Not at me exactly.”
    “Who exactly did she shoot at?” His voice had taken on that patient-father tone I had come to detest.
    Laney appeared in my doorway wearing an oversized T-shirt and baggy sweatpants. Her hair was mussed, her face bare of makeup. She was beauty personified. It almost made me wish I had kept the gun, just in case I caught a glimpse of my own face before applying my usual half a gallon of foundation. But cops are funny about letting could-be psychopaths walk away bearing arms.
    “Rivera?” She mouthed the name.
    I nodded.
    “How’s it going?” Mouthed again.
    “Excellent.” My answer was silent, accompanied by a confident nod.
    She grinned at my lie. “I’ll wait to hear the story,” she said, and headed for the bathroom.
    It was impossible for me to guess how she knew there was a story. Laney hadn’t returned home yet when I’d left for Glendale. I had privately hoped she was still honing wedding plans at midnight or maybe out knocking over 7-Elevens … anything besides sharing a bed with Solberg. But it’s impossible to say for sure. Brainy Laney’s spooky in a lot of ways.
    “McMullen.” Rivera’s patience sounded a little strained now, which, oddly enough, made me feel better.
    “Yeah?”
    “Who did she shoot at?”
    “I’m not sure she had decided exactly.”
    He mumbled something then. It might have been a swearword. Hell, it might have been several.
    I waited, staring at my legs. They were pasty white and kind of jiggly. I gave the right one a poke.
    “… fallen for someone with a couple of brain cells?”
    My attention snapped up. “What?”
    “I suppose you didn’t even consider letting me know where you were going.”
    “Actually I tried …” I began, then remembered his words. “What were you saying? Something about falling?”
    “What did you try?” he asked. Impatience had slipped into pissed. It wasn’t a long slide.
    “I called you,” I said, and scowled, remembering the night before. The panic I had felt at the sound of the voice on the phone. “He’s dead,” Micky had said and the first person that had popped into my mind had been Rivera. What did that mean? “Your line was busy.”
    “When?”
    “About two minutes after I turned you down.”
    “What the hell are you talking about?”
    I stood up. “Why are you so pissy? Did the next woman reject you, too?”
    For a moment there was silence, then, “Oh, for God’s sake, you don’t seriously think I was propositioning someone, do you?”
    “You propositioned me.” I could feel anger and doubt accumulate like tartar inside me.
    “I’d just put in a ten-hour day. You seriously think I was trying to get you in the sack?”
    “Me and probably a half-dozen others.”
    He snorted. “Jesus, McMullen, if I put my mind to it you’d be flat on your back before you could even remember the word ‘no.’”
    I curled up a lip. “I prefer being on top.”
    “I’ll keep that in …” He stopped himself, drew a deep breath. I swear I could hear him grind his teeth. “Are you okay or what?”
    I narrowed my eyes. Mothers weren’t the only ones who could be sneaky. Men were right up there with the champs. “Who were you talking to, Rivera?”
    “What?”
    “Last night, after we hung up. Who’d you call?”
    “Are you seriously asking this?”
    “Are you seriously evading the subject?”
    There was a pause. I opened my mouth to blast him, but he spoke first. “Mamá.”
    I closed my mouth, scowled. Harlequin had trotted after Laney. She had that effect on males. “You were talking to your mother?”
    “ Sí.”
    “At that hour?”
    His laugh was more of a heavy exhalation. “I know that wildcats like you have to get to bed before nine, but Latina women are known to stay up well past dusk.”
    My hackles rose. There had been more than a few Latina women in his past. Hell, there had probably been Chihuahuas in his past.
    “What