Read Online Death Turns A Trick (Rebecca Schwartz #1) (A Rebecca Schwartz Mystery) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series) by Julie Smith - Free Book Online Page A

it out; I planned to wash the bloodstains out in the bathtub.
    We found the place in worse disarray than the night before, if that was possible. But I didn’t let myself think about it. Mickey and I heaved the sofas and coffee table off the rug, and I gathered it up while she ran some cold water. Then she left me alone.
    I added detergent and left the rug to soak while I called Judge Rinaldo. “I’m sorry, Miss Schwartz,” he said. “Martinez and Curry are dead against bail for your client. They’ve got witnesses and fingerprints.”
    “Yes, but he’s not a flight risk.”
    “They say he’s in such a depressed state he might try suicide.”
    “Bull—” I stopped myself just in time. “I mean, nonsense! I talked to him this morning.”
    “I’m sorry,” the judge repeated. “You’ll have a bail hearing if he’s charged.” He hung up.
    It was no more than I expected. The bit about suicide disturbed me, though. I hadn’t thought Parker was that upset, but then he had rather unreasonably refused to take the polygraph test. Unreasonably if he were innocent, that is. I had to assume he was innocent, so why not take the test? Was he really so upset he just wasn’t thinking straight? Could be; I would be if I were in his shoes. But so upset he was suicidal?
    I hoped to God not. And not only on his account—I wanted a man I didn’t have to mother.
    I went back to the rug. A little scrubbing and the blood came out pretty easily, but the feathers were something else again. Even after I’d gotten bored picking them off, you could hardly see the difference. So I decided to vacuum it when it was dry, and addressed myself to the hard part of the task: wringing the damn thing out.
    Then I bathed, put on a white silk shirt, gray flannel slacks, and a coral necklace. That was good enough for a Saturday at the Hall of Justice.

Chapter Nine
     
    The Hall of Justice was eerily quiet. I took the elevator to City Prison and asked to see my client. The cops showed us into an interview room about the size of my bathroom, painted in two shades of blue. Two ugly shades. It was furnished with a table and two chairs.
    As soon as they left us alone, we kissed and held each other for a long time. Parker’s eyes were red, either from crying or lack of sleep. Maybe both.
    “No bail?” he asked, sitting down.
    I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Martinez and Curry told the judge you might be suicidal.”
    “Christ, I just might be.” He waved his hand in a futile gesture. I put a notebook and pen in the middle of the table so he’d have something to fidget with. “I’m having a very hard time believing any of this is actually happening.”
    “I know. So am I. But we’ve got to talk about it.”
    “Yes. Rebecca, she was only twenty-four. God! Just twenty-four!” He picked up the pen and made two fists around it. “I remember how jealous I was when she was born. Everyone adored her because she was so pretty. I did too, by the time I got over my jealousy.
    “It’s funny the things you remember.” Animation came into his voice. “Mom had a black velvet cape that she used to wear to the opera.
    “One day—around Halloween—I got a pair of those fake glasses with a nose and mustache. You know, Groucho Marx glasses—and I put them on along with the velvet cape and sneaked up behind Carol. We used to watch that weekly horror show on TV—
Creature Features
, I think they call it now—and we'd recently seen one of the versions of ‘Dracula.’ Anyway, I tapped her on the shoulder and she screamed. No one else was home, so I could do anything I wanted. I chased her around the house for about ten minutes, until finally I cornered her and she just kind of sank down, whimpering.
    “She was so defenseless and so terrified and so
pretty
, I realized I loved her.
    “I was a teenager, and she was only about seven; I wasn’t used to moments of sentiment. I picked her up and took off the glasses. She put her arms around my neck