Read Online Deadly Blessings by Julie Hyzy - Free Book Online

going
to be tough on you and I wanted to let you down easy but now, you
went and did your hair. And I like it, by the way.”
    Tough on me? Let me down easy? As if my
words were knives, I could feel the sharpness of them as they left
my mouth. “I didn’t get my hair done for you.”
    “ Whatever,” he said,
clearly not believing me. “Be that as it may, I hope we can stay
friends,” he winked at me as he reached for the check two
heartbeats too long after the waiter dropped it off.
    Still fuming I nodded. “Sure.”
    “ Maybe
you and I can have lunch next week and talk about … Fenton’s … progress on
the priest story.”
    And then, he winked again.

    Chapter Five

    For being mid-morning, my office was pretty
dark. Roiling black clouds from a thunderstorm that had made its
way across Lake Michigan onto Chicago’s shores shadowed the
skyline. The storm was intensifying by the moment, scary in that
awesome way that made me fear the power of nature, even as I sat
safe and dry in the dusky gloom. I’d been staring at my computer
screen, my left hand gripping a large chunk of hair atop my head as
I studied the display and tried to make sense of my notes. Every so
often a burst of lightning caused my eyes to flick upward in
surprise, as though someone had just taken my picture.
    “ So, your real name’s …
Alexis? Or is it Alexa?” a voice asked, pulling me from my
concentration.
    My gaze meandered up at the voice. It
belonged to Fenton, leaning in my doorway, wearing a smug smile.
With his skinny arms folded and feet spread in an arrogant stance,
he lifted his chin in anticipation of my response.
    Since the notes on my screen had nothing to
do with the hair interviews I had scheduled for today and
everything to do with Milla Voight’s murder, I hit the “close”
button before answering.
    “ Nope.”
    “ I dated an Alexis
once.”
    Like I cared. “That’s nice.”
    His hands came up in a quick gesture of
frustration and he took on a petulant tone that made me revise
downward my original guess at his age, his emotional age anyway.
This guy was a case of arrested development at the level of junior
high.
    “ Come on.
What is your name? Might as well tell me. We’re going to be working
together, you know.” Then he did this head movement thing that
until this moment I hadn’t realized was a habit. Kind of like a
horse whose bridle was too tight, he would lift his head and shake
it, to get the hair out of his eyes. Brown eyes. Or at least they
looked it from here.
    “ Actually, we don’t ever
need to work together. You handle your stories; I handle
mine.”
    He moved into the room and glanced at my
computer screen. I caught the quick assessment he made. Piles of
information were scattered all over my credenza and on a set of
filing cabinets across the room from me. Because I had interviews
scheduled, I’d taken a few minutes to tidy things up and my desk
looked, if not clean, at least orderly. “So, what are you working
on?” he asked.
    I generally don’t mind people asking me
that. And sometimes I even have an answer. But this Fenton guy’s
very existence grated on my nerves.
    “ A hair story,” I said.
“Nothing exciting.”
    “ I noticed you’re a lot
less dolled-up today.” He pulled one of my chairs back and settled
into it, his elbows on the wooden arms, his fingers
interlaced.
    Give him a point for observational skills.
Today, almost back to normal, my hair hung loose, skimming my
shoulders, straight. But the wispy bangs Sophie had cut in and the
highlights were still there. I had to admit, when I’d checked them
out in the bathroom mirror this morning, I kinda liked the
change.
    I fixed my gaze on him, hoping to make him
wither and leave. Didn’t work. He fidgeted in his seat. Belatedly,
I realized he was here because he wanted something.
    “ Mr. Bassett told me you
had a file on that Millie girl who was murdered.”
    “ Milla. Her name was
Milla.”
    “ Yeah. Whatever. Can I