The Dead and the Beautiful Read Online Free PDF Page A

down a short hallway to a dining room.
    â€œNikki,” Alison whimpered when she saw her walk in. She half-rose from her chair, as if she was too weak to make it all the way to her feet, and raised her hands for a hug.
    Nikki and Alison had never been on hugging terms, but a murder scene required special allowances. Nikki walked up to her and gave her a genuine hug. Alison’s shoulder blades were boney; the woman needed a few extra pounds on her thin frame.
    â€œAre you all right?” Nikki whispered. She could feel Dombrowski behind her, hovering in the doorway.
    Alison gulped and nodded.
    Nikki released her and took a step back. Alison slipped into the dining room chair, again; it was a crazy ash and stainless thing. There were eleven more identical chairs around an equally modern, ugly dining table.
    Nikki glanced around the room as she dropped her bag on the dining table. Diara’s taste was awful . . . and very expensive. There were original contemporary paintings on the walls, all abstract, with wild colors and designs. All originals, she suspected. All very expensive and, in her humble opinion, all looking as if they had been painted by a kindergarten class.
    Nikki met Alison’s gaze. “What happened?”
    Alison’s gaze darted over Nikki’s shoulder. She had big brown eyes that seemed bigger than they were when framed by her pale face and the limp brown hair that had escaped from her ponytail.
    Nikki turned around. “Detective Dombrowski, could I have a minute alone with Alison?”
    â€œI should talk with her. The sooner we get through the interview, the sooner she can go.”
    â€œI just need a minute,” Nikki said quietly.
    â€œSure.” He sounded reluctant.
    She waited until she heard his footsteps in the living room, then pulled out a chair beside Alison. There was a white furry rug under the table. It appeared to be real fur. Polar bear?
    â€œWhat happened to Ryan?” Nikki asked.
    Alison pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her big eyes filled with tears. “They think I did it,” she whispered.
    Nikki frowned. “They don’t think you did it.” She studied Alison’s face for a moment, then lowered her voice. “They don’t really think you did it, do they?”
    Alison was the last person on earth you’d suspect of killing a man. Or a mosquito. She was a quiet woman. Timid. Always soft-spoken. She was one of those women you might say was afraid of her own shadow. She’d been that way as long as Nikki had known her—back when they were kids and Nikki and Jeremy were best friends. Alison was three years younger, so they rarely hung out, but she was never the kind of little sister you could tease or play practical jokes on. She’d always been too . . . fragile was the word that came to mind.
    It wasn’t that Alison was a bad person. She was just the kind who got easily washed in and out with the tide. At least she had been, in her late teens and early twenties. She’d dropped out of several colleges, had a hard time keeping a job. But after she married Farid Sahira, a businessman quite a bit older than she was, she seemed to have settled down. She’d had Jocelyn, and was a stay-at-home mom for a few years. Then she’d opened a party store and party planning business a couple of years ago—when her marriage became rocky, Nikki suspected. The business had failed and so had the marriage. The dog-walking business was less than a year old but seemed to be doing well.
    â€œWhy would the police think you killed Ryan Melton?” Nikki asked, taking care to be sure she didn’t sound confrontational. She knew Alison walked Ryan Melton’s Rottweiler. He was a sweet doofus of a dog that got along with Stan and Ollie; Alison took all three to the park at the same time. “Did you call 911? Were you the one who found the body?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œOkay,” Nikki