The Bad Always Die Twice Read Online Free PDF

whispered.
    “I know.” Jessica stared right at him. “Hell of a sight, isn’t he?”
    “Miss Martin, you’re going to have to come down with me to the Hollywood precinct.”
    Jessica grabbed Nikki’s hand again. She was shaking. Jessica Martin wasn’t usually afraid of anything and she didn’t shake.
    “Am I being arrested?” she asked in a tremulous voice that sounded nothing like her own.
    “Not yet.” His response was dry. Emotionless. He acted as if he found dead men dead again all the time. Or he just didn’t care how many times Rex March died.
    “Can you come this way, Miss Martin?” It clearly wasn’t an invitation.
    Jessica clutched Nikki’s hand. “What am I going to do?” she begged, her eyes filling with tears again.
    “You’re going to answer the detective’s questions,” Nikki answered firmly.
    “But I don’t know how he got here. I didn’t do this. I swear to God, I didn’t.”
    “I’ll get you a lawyer.”
    “I don’t need a lawyer,” she declared shrilly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
    “I’ll get you one anyway.”
    “Miss Martin.” The detective took her arm.
    “Please, Nikki. Please.” Jessica let go of Nikki’s hand as he pulled her away. “You have to help me.”
    “This way.”
    Nikki’s eyes stung. “I’ll be right behind you, Jess. You said Hollywood precinct, right?” she called after the detective.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Nikki glanced back at Rex’s body before walking out of the bedroom. The sight of his dead body was deeply disturbing. Even more disturbing was the situation his body had put Jessica in. How did you get here? she wanted to ask him. And why the hell are you wearing those ridiculous briefs?

Chapter 4
    O utside the doors of the LAPD Hollywood Station on Wilcox Avenue, Nikki took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was early in the season for the Santa Ana, only the first week of October, but a warm, dry breeze teased the hair that had fallen from her ponytail. On the night air, she could smell the intoxicating fragrance of the white flowers blooming in the nearby bee brush.
    She took another deep breath, and rang her mother. It was nine fifty-nine; Victoria never received calls after ten p.m. She insisted on nine hours of beauty rest each night, unless she was making a public appearance, or there was an emergency. Jessica’s arrest for murder definitely did not count as an emergency. Nikki wasn’t entirely sure that if she had been arrested for Rex’s murder, her mother would have taken her call after ten.
    First, Nikki tried Victoria’s personal cell phone, but there was no answer. There never was. Victoria had not yet quite gotten the knack of cell phones and constantly misplaced them. This was the third cell Nikki had bought her this year. It was Nikki’s own voice on her mother’s recorded message. She hung up and called the house. Amondo answered.
    An Italian expat, he’d been working for Victoria for more than thirty years and served as her chauffeur, bodyguard, personal secretary, and in whatever other capacity he was needed. He adored Victoria and, secretly, Nikki thought she adored him.
    Nikki leaned against the brick wall of the police station and watched the cars crawl by. Across the street, a bail bond sign flashed OPEN 24 HRS.
    Cell phone use wasn’t permitted in the waiting room where she’d been holed up for hours, so she’d stepped outside. She’d needed a breath of fresh air, anyway. The waiting room stank of unwashed bodies, fish tacos, and . . . despair. The stark walls stirred up memories from her past that she just didn’t want roused. “It’s Nikki, Amondo,” she said, thankful to hear a friendly voice. “Is she still awake?”
    “You’re cutting it close tonight, cara mia ,” he teased. “Let me get her.” After all these years, he no longer spoke with an Italian accent, but as with most Europeans, Nikki noticed, he had a certain cadence of speech. On Amondo, it was charming and sexy, even