The Last Word Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrong.”
    “Oh, Steve, don’t get all grouchy on me. A girl is allowed to have a little fun. Besides, you didn’t need me to tell you how this man died. Isn’t it obvious? He was shot in the neck.”
    Steve turned his back on Amanda, furious with himself for letting her fool him again. She loved to tease him, which he wouldn’t mind if she wasn’t always doing it in front of other people. He’d told her that. But she didn’t think there was much fun in teasing him if there wasn’t some potential for embarrassing him, too.
    At least only her assistants and a couple of crime scene techs had heard her. He never would have lived it down if any other cops had witnessed it.
    He strode over to question LaShonda Wilkes, but she held up her hand to stop him as he approached. She was busy yelling at someone on her cell phone, using some inventive combinations of profanity that Steve hadn’t heard before, and she didn’t want to be interrupted.
    Steve nodded, said a few words to a uniformed cop, and was jotting down some of LaShonda’s more colorful phrases for future reference when an unmarked LAPD Crown Vic drove up and a Hispanic woman got out, a badge and a gun clipped to her belt.
    She strode over to him. He liked the way she strode. She was in her thirties, had black hair, dark skin, and even darker eyes. She introduced herself as Detective Olivia Morales, West Valley Homicide. They shook hands. She had a handshake firm enough to crack walnuts.
    “Do you speak Spanish?” Steve asked.
    “You think just because my name is Morales that I speak fluent Spanish.”
    “Yeah,” Steve said, “I do.”
    “That’s racial stereotyping, Lieutenant.”
    “No, it’s not,” he said.
    “Just because you’re Nordic, I don’t immediately assume you speak Norwegian.”
    “You think I’m Nordic?” Steve asked.
    “You’re tall, blond, and look like you’d be comfortable wearing a Viking helmet.” She shrugged. “That’s Nordic to me.”
    “Do Nordics speak Norwegian?”
    She shrugged again. “How the hell would I know what Nordics speak? I was trying to make a point. So, why do you want to know if I speak Spanish?”
    Steve gestured to Julio Martinez. “Could you tell him that he’s free to go after he gives us his statement and that we aren’t going to arrest him or turn him over to immigration?”
    She nodded. “I’ll get around to it when I’m finished here. I’m surprised you didn’t ask me to take care of those two kids, seeing as how I have a uterus and you’re Nordic and all.”
    “That was going to be my next request,” Steve said.
    “Aren’t you curious why I’m here?”
    “I thought it was to talk to the gardener and keep an eye on those kids,” Steve said, smiling. “Was there something else?”
    Olivia gestured to LaShonda. “Her boyfriend, Teeg Cantrell, is a wanted fugitive.”
    “What is he wanted for?”
    “He went into a 7-Eleven in West Hills last Friday night. He bought a six-pack of beer, three Milky Way bars, and a box of donuts. The cashier rang him up, but Teeg was two dollars short. When the cashier wouldn’t give him the stuff anyway, Teeg shot him twice and walked out.”
    “The cashier still alive?”
    “Would the hottest Latina homicide detective in the San Fernando Valley be standing here if he was?”
    “Teeg sounds like a terrific guy,” Steve said. “I wonder why LaShonda let him go.”
    “We could ask her,” Olivia said.
    “She’s talking on the phone and doesn’t want to be interrupted.”
    “And you’re waiting?”
    “Actually, judging by her use of language, I’m guessing she’s talking to her ex-boyfriend right now.”
    “What kind of language?”
    Steve showed her his notes. One of Olivia’s thin, etched eyebrows arched. He liked the way it arched.
    “Yeah,” she said. “She’s talking to her boyfriend. Are we tracing the call?”
    “We are,” Steve said. “But it’s only going to give us the general area.”
    “If he’s on the