See Jane Die Read Online Free PDF

smoker. Dallas, home to the rich and poor, the glamorous and toothless. And eventually, in one way or another, sooner or later, they all ended up here.
    Nodding in greeting to the officer standing beside the information desk, they stepped into the elevator alcove. The stainless steel doors, with their vertical row of gold stars, slid open.
    Stacy stepped on and Mac followed. He turned to her. “What are you thinking?”
    â€œWe fill the captain in, ask for some help with the tapes. Our guy’s on one of those tapes and I want him.”
    The car rumbled to a stop, and they alighted on the third floor. A sign hanging from the ceiling warned: Authorized Personnel Only. Along the wall opposite the elevators stood a row of bent, broken and listing desk chairs. When one gave up the ghost, the detective simply rolled it out to the graveyard, as they called this stretch of hallway, and there it sat.
    They entered the division and collected their messages. Stacy flipped through hers. “Captain in?” she asked the secretary, not lifting her gaze from the message slips.
    â€œYup,” the woman, named Kitty of all things, said. She snapped her gum and Stacy noted it was the same pink as her angora sweater and lipstick. “He’s expecting you. Hi, Mac.”
    At the invitation in the young woman’s voice, Stacy glanced up.
    â€œHello, Kitty. You having a good day?”
    â€œGreat.”
    She drew out the gr to a purr. Stacy rolled her eyes.
    â€œGlad to hear that. Gotta go.”
    They turned and headed back toward their captain’s office. When they were out of the secretary’s earshot, Stacy leaned toward Mac. “Hi Mac,” she murmured, imitating the other woman. “Grrreat.”
    â€œShe’s just young.”
    â€œSo why’re you blushing, McPherson?”
    â€œKillian! McPherson! We got a bone to pick with you.”
    The playful challenge came from Beane, one of the other detectives. His partner, Bell, stood beside him. The two, affectionately known as B & B around the department, looked as if they’d had a rough morning.
    â€œYeah? And that would be?”
    â€œHow’d you two rank La Plaza? We spent the last four hours with a stiff at the Bachman Transfer Station.”
    Bachman Transfer was one of three garbage-collection points for the city of Dallas. “You smell like it, too,” Stacy tossed over her shoulder. “I’d do something about that if I were you.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure it’s discrimination,” Bell called after them. “It’s because you’re a girl.”
    â€œGet over it,” Mac returned, chuckling. “You’re just jealous.”
    â€œBeane here retires, I’m partnering with a chick, too. Just watch me.”
    Still chuckling, they went in search of their captain. Tom Schulze, a twenty-year veteran of Homicide, had proved to be a tough but fair superior. During the course of their association, Stacy had learned to respect not only his faultless instincts but his explosive temper as well. Pity to the detective on the receiving end of that temper.
    She tapped on his door casing. He was on the phone but waved them in. Mac took a seat. She chose to stand.
    A moment later, he ended the call. In the ten years she had known the man, his light red hair had thinned and faded to gray, but his eyes remained an almost electric blue. That startling gaze settled on her now. “Fill me in.”
    Stacy began. “Vic’s name was Elle Vanmeer. Looks like she was strangled. Pete promised us his report before morning.”
    The captain arched an eyebrow at that. “Go on.”
    Mac took over. “She checked in about eight last evening, alone. The housekeeper found her around 11:15 a.m. today.Hotel management refused to let us canvas the guest rooms or question any of the guests.”
    â€œHowever,” Stacy jumped in, anticipating his reaction, “we did convince the