Some Like It Lethal Read Online Free PDF Page A

rump. Dusting off her hands, she gave me the lowdown on the fund-raiser.
    "What kind of dog is that?" Thomasina squinted at Spike when he displayed his teeth with diabolical flair. "A wire fox? Jack Russell?"
    "A miniature pit bull," I told her, straight-faced. "Not recognized by the kennel club yet."
    "Not very friendly, is he?" Her brows pinched suspiciously. "Are you taking him to obedience class?"
    "I've been a little busy."
    She shook her head and reached into her pocket for a business card. "If you don't make an effort now, you'll regret it for the rest of his life. Call me at that number and I'll set you up with a trainer I know. She's the best for hopeless cases."
    "Thanks."
    Thomasina grabbed my arm just in time to yank me out of the way of a huge chestnut horse that lunged at the end of the reins held by a pixie hardly big enough to reach his massive shoulders.
    "Sorry!" The girl laughed, her gimlet eyes still alight with the excitement of the hunt. "Come on, Genghis!"
    It was Merrie Naftzinger, I realized, all grown up since I'd attended her eighth birthday party at the Four Seasons a few years ago. She wore a bowler hat and sported blue rubber bands on her braces.
    An idea hit me.
    "Merrie," I said, "how about having your picture taken for the newspaper? You and Genghis?"
    "Hi, Miss Blackbird! Sure, you can take our picture. If I can get him to stand still a minute."
    Thomasina stepped forward with a businesslike air that Genghis recognized immediately. I dashed off to find the Intelligencer photographer, and by the time we came back, Genghis was standing at attention and Merrie looked flushed and pleased. I herded Thomasina and Donald into the photo, too, and in seconds the deed was done. I thanked the photographer and everyone concerned, reserving special attention for Merrie.
    "Come see my dad," she said. "He's over in the barn."
    Keeping a safe distance from Genghis's lethal-looking hind legs, I followed Merrie across the cobblestones to the east wing of the barn. We skirted groups of people and various heaps of riding gear that cluttered the walkway. Canvas chairs stood outside most of the stalls, with thermoses and heavy clothing in evidence. Some horses were already stabled, and put their heads out of the Dutch doors to watch the action. Riders busily attended their mounts. The scents of sawdust, saddle soap and exertion overpowered the cold air.
    Tim Naftzinger was stripping off his mud-spattered scarlet coat, obviously having just finished cleaning up his horse.
    I had first met Tim years ago when he'd been a medical school classmate of my late husband, who had introduced Tim even then as "one of the good guys." Now Dr. Naftzinger was a respected pediatrician, and I knew he was destined for great things. We hadn't seen much of each other in the last two years, which had been no accident. Tim felt guilty, I think, for not saving my husband from the drug life. I couldn't help feeling the same way, despite all the friends who urged me to believe I couldn't have made a difference when my husband turned into a cocaine-burning comet that blazed off on a trajectory to oblivion.
    Tim saw me behind Merrie and went still. "Nora," he said, a nanosecond too late. "Great to see you."
    "Hi." I put my hand out to shake his. "I just commandeered your daughter for a newspaper photo. I hope you don't mind."
    He managed a smile. "Not a bit. I hope she didn't break the camera."
    "Da-ad!" Merrie laughed and disappeared into the next stall with her horse.
    "Merrie's all grown up," I said. "She's going to be tall, just like her father."
    "Fortunately, the rest of her looks come from her mom."
    I smiled, too, but felt a pang. "How is Caroline?"
    Tim shrugged. "About the same."
    His wife's coma had lasted almost a year now, I calculated. They had been skiing, and she'd skidded on ice and struck a tree. Tim still looked as shell-shocked as he had at the beginning of his ordeal.
    I said, "I went to see her in August. I just sat and