Dead Write: A Forensic Handwriting Mystery

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Authors: Sheila Lowe
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away.
    Susan Rowan had commandeered a table in a secluded spot at the back of the noisy café. A stylish redhead, she wore a tweed jacket over a turtleneck sweater that attempted to cover loose folds of skin on her neck. Her Levi’s bagged a little at the seat on a body that was all angles and planes.
    She smiled with genuine warmth and brushed Claudia’s cheek with her own. “They’ll kill you as soon as look at you to get a table,” she said, slipping out of her jacket and draping it over the back of the chair. “I’ll order for us if you’ll stand guard.”
    Noticing her sallow complexion, Claudia remembered hearing that Susan had been receiving cancer treatment. She could see that her friend had lost considerable weight since their last encounter at a seminar a couple of years earlier.
    Claudia watched Susan elbow her way to the counter, ignoring the grumbles of other customers. The humidity from the bagel kettle, the warmth of the oven, the steam from pots of fresh coffee had all conspired to fog up the windows, creating a sense of cozy seclusion that was more imagined than real. Savory aromas perfumed the air, making her stomach gurgle. It all felt very New Yawk.
    Susan reappeared five minutes later, bearing a tray laden with bagels in a plastic basket. Claudia reached for a cinnamon raisin and a single container of cream cheese. “These smell wonderful. I’m glad you phoned me. And not just because of the bagels.”
    Susan cracked a smile as she began layering lox and cream cheese on a water bagel. “Oh, sure, I know where I stand.”
    “I heard you’d been ill. I hope that’s all behind you now.”
    “It’s been a long haul,” Susan said, grimacing. “But I’m great now, really great. I’m done with chemo, got my hair back, and the docs have given me a clean bill of health. I’ve been planning what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
    “And have you got it all figured out?”
    “As a matter of fact, I have. I finally got divorced—it’s the damn marriage that made me sick. Never marry a doctor, Claudia, I’m telling you, they’re only good for the alimony.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “You got a boyfriend?”
    Claudia nodded, but she didn’t feel as sure of herself on that count as she used to. Jovanic had not called back the night before. She had to wonder how late he and Alex had stayed out on their stakeout. “He’s a detective,” she said. “LAPD.”
    Susan laughed. “Just as bad, I’m sure. I think it’s the male persuasion that’s the problem, not the career.”
    “I like the male persuasion myself. Not ready to give up on them just yet.”
    “Me, I’m ready to travel the world. Maybe I’ll find my soul mate out there somewhere.”
    “Wouldn’t it be more fun to find the soul mate first and travel the world together ?”
    “True, Claudia, so true. And I’ve got some ideas about that.” They chatted on for a few minutes about men and relationships; then Susan set her coffee cup in its saucer and showed her hand. “So, you wanna know who the little bird was? The one who told me you were in Manhattan?”
    “Hell, yeah. Spill the beans.”
    “Grusha told me.”
    “Grusha?”
    “You didn’t know? I used to work for her before I got sick. I was the one who told her you were on that show last week—the interview show.”
    “ That’s news to me. She never told me.”
    “Typical. She plays her cards close to her vest.”
    Claudia was busy trying to figure Susan into the equation, but wasn’t immediately able to see where she fit. “What was she like to work for?”
    Susan flapped her hands. “She’s a hoot if you don’t take her too seriously.” Claudia raised a questioning eyebrow, and she added, “Well, you’ve met her; she’s a big drama queen, not to mention paranoid. Everyone’s out to get her—know what I mean?”
    Claudia knew exactly what she meant. “What’s her handwriting like?”
    “She doesn’t let anyone see it. Claims

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