The Nosy Neighbor Read Online Free PDF

diamond bracelet that almost blinded her. She pretended to love the bracelet, which she did, but she loved the snow globe more.
    Once he’d surprised her by scattering rose petals on the sheets when they made love. The scent of the roses and the loving words he’d whispered had been a heady mix as he caressed her in all the right places. Over and over, he’d professed his love, promising that life together was going to be wonderful. She’d believed him.
    Then, of course, there was the wine. Very, very good, expensive wine. Way too much wine. Now that she thought about it, those trysts were always a little blurry in her memory. Maybe the romance and the sex were colored by the wine, and she was too stupid to know the difference. Her brother said she was one of the smartest people he knew. She assumed he meant professionally. She was convinced now that where men were concerned she really was stupid.
    When it had been time for him to leave the last time he’d visited, she’d cried. She never cried. Well, hardly ever. All that expensive fine wine had been the culprit. Jonathan had cupped her face in his big hands as he’d whispered more endearing words, then kissed away her tears. He’d called her ten minutes later just to say he loved her and to make her laugh, which she did. Knowing how alone she was feeling, he’d continued to call her every ten minutes for the next few hours until he boarded his flight.
    “Bastard!” was all she could think of to say. And now this…whatever this was.
    In all the time she’d known him, he’d never once given her his travel itinerary. His home base, such as it was, was a small one-bedroom apartment on East Seventy-ninth Street. She knew she could call the number at the apartment, leave a message, and sooner or later, most often days later, Jonathan would return her call. At least that’s always the way it had been. For some reason, she knew things weren’t ever going to be the same again.
    Jonathan was in Guatemala. At least that’s where he said he was going two weeks ago. He’d promised to be home for Thanksgiving, which was a week away.
    Jonathan did not have a key to this house, and she didn’t have a key to his apartment. Now, where did that thought come from? she wondered. She’d never been to the apartment. There was no need really. When she’d met him, she’d been living in the city at the brownstone on Forty-ninth Street, right around the corner from the United Nations Building. He’d always preferred to go to her place, claiming it was bigger and more comfortable than his apartment. Now, she felt an urgency actually to see where her fiancé lived.
    If the Disaster Master people arrived on time, she could leave them to do their work while she loaded the dogs into her sports utility vehicle and drove into the city to Jonathan’s apartment, pick the lock, and be back by dinnertime. Early in her career she’d represented a client named William Fogerty also known as Three-Fingered Willie who had been accused of multiple burglaries. She’d gotten him off. To show his thanks at her skilled representation, he’d spent hours showing her “the tricks of the trade,” which she’d actually enjoyed learning. When Willie said he was confident she could pick any lock as well as he could, she’d felt pleased. Willie had been so happy with his acquittal, he’d given her her very own lock picking kit. She’d doubled over laughing, knowing she’d only have occasion to use it when she accidentally locked herself out of her own home, but still, she’d kept it, and now she was glad she had brought it with her to New Jersey. If she believed what the federal agents had told her. Well, there was only one way to find out.
    Jonathan brokered business deals and received a commission for his efforts. He’d intimated that he was a multimillionaire. He looked the part, dressed the part, and acted the part. She had to admit she didn’t know what kind of deals he brokered, and when