The Design Is Murder (Murders By Design) Read Online Free PDF

here,” he said to Hughes. “I have to call Lieutenant Rossi.”
    While Hughes went outside to fetch Tony, Batano hauled out his cell phone and with fingers poised over the pad, said, “You can be assured, Mr. Hawkins, that your wife’s death will be thoroughly investigated. The county coroner and a homicide detective will be here shortly.”
    Stew let out a soft groan and slumped back in his chair. Even his chest hair drooped.

Chapter Eight
    That evening, too agitated to sit, Rossi paced my living room. A study in frustration, he waved his arms in the air as he wove a path back and forth in front of me.
    “I could not believe, I absolutely could not believe you were there in that room when I walked in.”
    “After what happened, you know I couldn’t leave, and besides Stew wanted me there.”
    That stopped him dead in his tracks. “Oh? Stew, is it? How long have you known this guy? His wife dies suddenly under mysterious circumstances, you’re on the scene and now you’re calling him Stew like you’re old friends.”
    “Are you jealous, Rossi?”
    “Jealous? Jealous! I’m worried, for God’s sake. Worried. About you.”
    I patted the sofa cushion. “Come sit beside me, please. I don’t like to see you so upset.”
    He heaved one of those sighs that start deep in the belly, but after a few more passes on the carpet, he sank down next to me and placed a hand on my thigh. “My intention is not to be difficult.”
    “Or juvenile,” I added, trying to inject a little humor into the evening.
    “That either, but you do have a penchant for being on a crime scene before the police, before the medics, before the coroner, and—”
    “Before you.”
    “Bingo!”
    “It’s simply coincidence. Every time.”
    “Say I buy that,” he said, stroking my knee, my thigh, my arm. “That doesn’t mean I like what I bought. This Hawkins character, for instance, is nobody you want to get too close to. We’ve been checking into his background, and so far what I’ve read I don’t like.”
    I sat up straighter. “What?”
    “Okay, for your own safety, I’ll tell you this. He has a record of domestic violence.”
    I drew in a shocked breath. “Against Connie Rae? They were only married three weeks ago.”
    “No, against his former wife, Kay Hawkins. On several occasions in the past couple of years she called the station for help. Said she was afraid of him. He was drinking and out of control. One report states that the officer found her with a black eye.”
    “He beat her?”
    “That time she said she’d gotten up at night and walked into an open closet door.” He shrugged. “Who knows?” His hand on my knee tightened. “But I do know you need to stay clear of this guy.”
    I slumped back against the cushions. “Not to worry. He called me this morning, said he and his bride wanted to redecorate their house, but after this, I doubt I’ll hear from him again. Poor little Connie Rae. I wonder why she married him.”
    “I can think of a few million reasons,” Rossi said sounding cynical and looking irritated. “Only twenty-two years old, and Hawkins is fifty if he’s a day.”
    “A May and December romance I guess.”
    “Or maybe a beauty and the beast romance, but in fairness to all, that remains to be seen. In the meantime, please be careful.”
    “I will. Though tomorrow I’m due back on Whiskey Lane. I have an appointment at 590, the house directly across the street from Stew’s. But I won’t go near 595. I promise.”
    “Good.” Leaning in closer, he treated me to one of his famous smiles and to what was morphing into a really beautiful, soothing, sexy massage.
    * * *
    The moment I rang the chimes at 590 Whiskey Lane, James Stahlman, with Charlotte in tow, opened the front door of his stately two-story house.
    “Deva! Come in,” he said. “Do come in.”
    “Happy to.” I held out a hand. “Thank you for allowing me to reschedule.”
    His well-manicured fingers briefly touched mine. “Not