Sleight of Hand Read Online Free PDF

it."
    Stephanie had raised a glass of milk to her lips. She put it down. "What did she say?" She stared at him, her voice little more than a whisper.
    "Not much more than that. He was killed, murdered, Saturday night, they think. They didn't want his immediate family to learn about it from television or the radio."
    She stood up and went to the glass patio door where she stood with her back to him. "Do they know who did it?"
    "No, and I hope to God they never find out. The guy deserves a medal."
    She wheeled about. "Eric! Don't say such a thing."
    "I'm glad he's dead, Mother. I'm glad." He waved his hand in a curious gesture he used. "Anyway, there will be reporters and people asking questions, wanting to talk to you and Eve. I've taken the week off. I'll come over here and stay. The cop wanted to know if I know where Connie is. I don't. Apparently they can't locate her.
    Have you talked to her in the past few days?"
    She shook her head. "We were expecting her last Saturday, but she didn't come, and she never called."
    There were possibly half a dozen people Eve cared about. She loved her mother, and adored her big brother. She had become especially fond of Reggie, their tenant who was a companion for Eve on the days that Stephanie worked. And she had formed an attachment to, or even had come to love, her stepmother Connie. Her doctor and one of the therapists along the way made up the group.
    "Mother, you're ready to drop. Go take a warm bath and pile up in bed for a few hours. I'll be down here and you need some rest. The next few days are going to be hell."

Chapter 6
    Frank rarely brooded about past mistakes. His philosophy was to admit them, fix them if possible and, if not, live with whatever consequences there were. But he now thought it had been a mistake to bring Barbara into the Wally Lederer case. His intentions had been good, his instincts okay, but it had been a mistake. He had seen her growing restlessness and believed, even if she was dodging it, that part of the problem, a big part, was Darren Halvord. He was in love with her and wanted to get married. That much was obvious to anyone who had seen them together.
    Frank knew that Barbara would never discuss her personal life, especially her love life, and that neither she nor Darren would ever mention it if he proposed and she turned him down, but, by God, if she said yes, she'd have to let him know. No one would be happier about it than Frank.
    He thought Wally's case would be a distraction, not a major all-involving one, but interesting enough to make her accept that her restlessness was not caused by any work burnout. What he had thought would be a little distraction had turned into a goddamn mess.
    Well, be damned careful what you wish for, Mr Buttinsky , he told himself Tuesday morning on his way to her office to be on hand when Bailey reported.
    Frank arrived at Barbara's office minutes before Bailey who looked like someone he'd slip a dollar to if he passed him standing on a street corner. Bailey appeared more disreputable than usual that morning, with Band-Aids and red streaks on both hands, as if he had been brawling.
    "That Austin rambler," he said, holding up his hands. "Hannah said it had to go or else I did. I took it out over the weekend." Bailey tended prize-winning roses, but some of the shrub roses had overgrown their boundaries and it appeared that he had fought one to the secret rosebush graveyard.
    "Consider sympathy given and let's get on with it," Barbara said, showing no evidence of any sympathy whatsoever. They sat in the comfortable chairs around her table, and she did not bother with notes. As if to belie his appearance, Bailey produced meticulous written reports.
    "Right. Not much yet. Wilkins was hit in the head with a cut-glass pitcher. That, or a brass piece on a bar stool did him in. He hit it when he fell. Saturday night, no definite time yet. Housekeeper found him yesterday morning around ten. No sign of a break-in, security