Second You Sin Read Online Free PDF Page A

disorder.
    Without it, I tend to get fuzzy-headed, forgetful, and disorganized.
    “My morning dose,” I answered.
    Freddy raised his hands in the universal gesture that means see, I knew I was right.
    I fished out my keychain, to which I had attached a can of Mace and a smal pil vial. I took one of the little pink pil s and washed it down with my bottled water.
    “Feeling better?” Freddy smirked.
    I stuck my tongue out at him.
    “Stop flirting,” he cautioned. “And put that back.” I looked at my hand, which, al on its own, had snatched a French fry off his plate.

    “Too late!” I said, jamming it into my mouth.
    Freddy pul ed his plate closer to him. “Seriously,” he said, “you have any suspects?”
    I thought about what Freddy was saying. “You think someone tried to kil Randy? On purpose?”
    “Naturellement!”
    Freddy
    exclaimed.
    “It’s
    elementary.”
    Freddy was very bright, but he often found himself a few steps behind. I could see he was proud of himself for having a theory about this before I did.
    I wasn’t into hearing his crackpot ideas right now, but the good news was he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t object when I grabbed another fry off his plate. OK, a handful of fries. It had been a stressful day.
    “What makes you think,” I asked with my mouth ful ,
    “that Randy was run over on purpose?”
    “Darling,” Freddy said, “it was practical y dawn on a Sunday morning.” It was after noon, but Freddy was on gay time. “Where was the person rushing off to? No one in their right mind goes to church anymore—no offense, dear.”
    I sneered and took a long swig of his cola. Was there anything more delicious than carbonated sugar?
    “The road was empty. Al those open lanes and the driver’s speeding right along the curb like that?
    Why?”
    I had to admit that was weird.
    “And you said the car just kept on going, right?” I nodded. “OK, I can see not stopping, that’s why they cal them ‘hit and runs.’ But to not even slow down?
    Not for a second? As if he”—Freddy stopped, remembered his political correctness—“or she , didn’t even notice? How do you hit a person and not even notice? Especial y one as dishy as Randy.
    Honey, you could spot those shoulders from an airplane.”
    “Hmmm,” I said, as if deep in thought. I took a chicken finger off his plate.
    “And you can’t remember anything about the driver?”
    “No,” I said. “It was like I told the cops. The whole thing happened in an instant. The only thing I remember noticing, because it stood out, was he . . .
    I think it was a he, was wearing sunglasses. Except that’s not right.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I don’t know.” I imagined my mind as a filing cabinet and I rifled through it, trying to find the right memory. “I remember thinking that it looked more like his eye was missing. Like there was darkness there.”
    “Oh my God,” Freddy said. “Randy was run over by a Terminator. But one of the cool ones, not one of those stupid transformers from the shitty Christian Bale movie.”
    “Doubtful,” I said, glad that Freddy was entertaining himself as I stole another fry. Or three.
    “OK, so we have a speeding car where you’d never expect to find one, Randy hit as if the driver were aiming at him, and a cybernetic kil er on the loose. It sounds pretty dodgy to me,” Freddy summed up.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Plus, you were there,” Freddy said.

    That got my attention. “And?”
    “Wel , darling, isn’t this your kind of thing?” A few months ago, another friend of mine was kil ed under suspicious circumstances. Although the police cal ed it a suicide, I suspected otherwise.
    After making a bit of a muck out of it, and chasing after a few wrong suspects, I actual y solved the case. Wel , kind of. It’s a long story.
    In any case, Freddy seemed to think I was now a magnet for murder.
    “If it is,” I said, taking a big hit of his soda while simultaneously reaching