Read Online Dead by Any Other Name by Sebastian Stuart - Free Book Online Page B

I’ve slept with everyone ; Sal Mineo threw himself at me. I threw him back.”
    He roared with more laughter and poured himself another flute full. The bottle was half gone and I didn’t want to be around for the crash, plus the lips were definitely loosed. Time to make my move.
    â€œI’m inhaling all this, Collier, but I’m actually here to talk about something else.”
    His head jerked and his eyes opened wide, like he’d been slapped. “Something else ? Besides me? ”
    â€œYou’re part of it.”
    â€œWell, I should hope so. You’re in my house, after all.” He turned away from me and stage whispered to an imaginary friend, “Manners have gone right out the window.”
    â€œI wanted to talk about Pavel.”
    His head swung back with such alacrity that I was afraid it was going to keep going and spin all the way around, Exorcist-style. He puffed up in his chair, shot me an acid look, and intoned: “ What. About. Pavel ?”
    â€œDid you know his girlfriend died last week?”
    â€œDo I look like I live under a rock?”
    I bit my tongue.
    â€œI think she may have been murdered.”
    â€œReally? If you find the killer’s address do let me know, I’m a great believer in thank-you notes.”
    â€œWill do.”
    â€œIt was probably one of the Remittance Sisters,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the Bump estate.
    â€œYou mean Octavia Bump?”
    He shuddered. “She of porcine mien and manner, yes.”
    â€œDo you really think she’s capable of murder?”
    â€œShe was capable of stealing Pavel from me, she’s capable of anything. Don’t be fooled by her tawdry little quivery ditz act, she has a steeltrap mind—not to mention other regions.”
    â€œShe stole Pavel from you?”
    â€œYoung lady, I discovered Pavel. In the slums of Prague … well, it was a hotel bar but never mind, he came from the slums. I cleaned him up and brought him to this country, I invested time, money, and … ” he placed a hand on his chest and his voice grew soft and fraught, “… my heart .”
    Ham and cheese.
    Then he switched gears, poured the last of the champagne as a veil of cunning descended over his eyes. “I’m afraid Lady Bump shall soon discover she’s living in a fool’s paradise.”
    â€œOh?”
    He downed the last drop of bubbly. “Now-now, do I look like a fool? I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but your audience is over.”
    He stood and ushered me out of the library and into the kitchen—there was a young man at the far end of the room, wearing black Levis and tee-shirt—pale and muscular, sexy and furtive. Denton looked annoyed at his presence.
    â€œOh, this is Graham,” he said. “He’s a handyman, doing some work for me.”
    â€œâ€™ello,” Graham mumbled in a thick Irish accent.
    â€œLet me show you out,” Denton said, grabbing my elbow and giving me a firm tug.

eighteen
    New Paltz, which sits in the flats of the Hudson Valley, is one of those college towns that seems to hover under its own personal cloud of pot smoke. We’re talking funky here—coffee shops, taco stands, bookstores, bars, used clothing shops, hippies of all ages—it’s Woodstock’s rowdier kid sister, the one who’s still dropping acid and giving head in the stacks.
    Feeling very middle-aged (and thankful for it), I parked and headed for the bar where I’d agreed to meet Billie. It was a dark spot on a side street that clearly catered more to townies and bikers than college kids. I didn’t see her so I got a ginger ale at the bar, sat at a small table, and waited. The place was pretty crowded and had a sweaty vibe, rough around the edges, vintage Aerosmith was playing, there was a pool table, the knot of jumpy lowlifes pow-wowing in one corner screamed we-love-our-meth