The Bad Always Die Twice Read Online Free PDF Page B

for a sixty-year-old man.
    He must have been with her in her bedroom suite because Victoria spoke at once into the phone. “I take it the dogs are sleeping over?”
    “If you don’t mind.” Nikki exhaled. She hadn’t seen Jessica in nearly three hours and no one, not the desk clerk or any cops she could waylay, could tell her anything about what was going on. The endless waiting was beginning to wear on her. She was tired and hungry and she just wanted to go home with her dogs and pretend none of this was happening. “I’m at the police station waiting for Jess. I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’ll get them tomorrow.”
    “They had chicken breast for dinner. Free range.”
    Nikki’s phone beeped. She had another call coming in. She glanced at the screen. It was Jeremy. What were the chances he’d heard about Jessica’s arrest already? She didn’t answer it. She’d talk with him later.
    “Amondo has walked them and tucked them in for the night in your room,” Victoria continued. “So I suppose they can stay.”
    Nikki leaned the back of her head against the wall as she watched an LAPD car zip out of its parking space in front of the station and down the street. She wondered if the cop was headed to a homicide or out for a bite. She doubted he’d be having free range chicken for dinner. “Aren’t you even going to ask me why Jess is at the police department?”
    “Finally arrested for prostitution?”
    “That’s not funny, Mother.”
    “Neither is being arrested for killing Rex March. Although, I suppose it is, when you think about it. Being arrested for killing a man who was already dead.”
    “You heard?” Nikki stood upright, gripping her BlackBerry. “How did you hear already?”
    Victoria chuckled. “Darling, you know I never reveal my sources.”
    Victoria had an intricate web of informants in Hollywood to rival any police department’s . . . probably even the FBI’s . . . and the CIA’s. Combined. Hairdressers, manicurists, doormen, all willing to lay down their lives to be certain Victoria Bordeaux was the first in Hollywood to know the latest news about anyone even remotely connected to her. In return, she granted them her glorious smile and the occasional ticket to a movie première or a gift bag of goodies she’d collected in a green room somewhere. She was actually quite kind to her informants and they were utterly loyal to her in return.
    “How did she kill him?” Victoria continued drolly. “I sent a four hundred dollar spray to his memorial service. I hope Edith doesn’t expect a second.”
    “Mother! How could you say such a thing? The man is dead .”
    “For a second time,” Victoria injected. “Let’s be honest, Nicolette, the man was always a liar. How do we know there won’t be a third?”
    “Jessica didn’t kill him.” Nikki ignored her mother’s witty sarcasm. “She didn’t even know he was alive.” She thought for a second. “ You didn’t know he was alive, either, and I’m quite sure Edith didn’t.”
    “Right. Otherwise, she’d have been a bit more hush-hush about that beefcake moving in with her, wouldn’t she?”
    Some people thought Victoria Bordeaux was too outspoken. She was candid, but she was usually saying what others thought but wouldn’t dare say.
    “I should go, Mother. I just wanted to let you know where I am and that I’ll be by tomorrow to pick up Stan and Ollie.” She heard the rumble of a male voice, then her mother’s again.
    “Amondo says he’ll dog-sit tomorrow,” Victoria said. “He enjoys walking them. I have no earthly idea why. He’s going on about some kind of dog treats he’s bought for them. He’ll let them into your place tomorrow afternoon if that suits. He has your key.”
    Nikki smiled. Amondo had always been good to her . . . and to the dogs. “Tell him I’d appreciate that.” She hesitated. She didn’t really know what she wanted from her mother, why she’d really called, beyond checking on Stan