Read Online Identical by Scott Turow - Free Book Online
Authors: Scott Turow
Tags: LEGAL, Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Thrillers, Mystery, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Political, Contemporary Fiction, Thrillers & Suspense, Spies & Politics, thriller_legal
Ads: Link
decided to become a PI, and Zeus was like, ‘OK, we’ll give you a retainer every year.’ I won’t lie either. Helped plenty, especially when I was getting started.” Mullaney had told her that these days Tim worked principally for criminal lawyers, turning up stuff the cops had missed, and also for a number of insurance defense lawyers. Tim was the guy who’d debunk a workman’s comp claim with photos showing the guy who said he was injured lifting weights. Brodie could also write a good report and was relaxed on the witness stand. He’d always had as much work as he wanted, although that had to be petering out at his age. “’Tween Zeus and Hal, they haven’t called me ten times. This thing I did last week, with Corus, must have been the first in five years. So yeah, you want me to look at the files, I’ll look at ’em. I’ll keep track of the time, but it’ll be a long while before you owe me anything.”
Upstairs, she collected her parka, which had ended up on the sofa next to his heavy book. There was a faint odor in the kitchen of last night’s dinner, which she hadn’t noticed when she came in.
“You keep going with those myths,” she said.
“Oh, I will. Was just reading about the myth of love when you rang the bell.”
“Myth?” said Evon. “You mean love’s not real? I wish somebody had told me that before I moved in with my girlfriend.”
She rarely said anything so personal, but she couldn’t pass on the joke. Not that it was all a joke in Heather’s case. But Tim was mightily amused. He laughed in his husky way for a long time.
“No,” he said, “Aristophanes says we were all four-legged creatures to start, some the same sex, but most half man and half woman. Zeus was afraid us humans would get too powerful so he sliced us right down the middle, and everybody spends their life looking for the matching piece. What do you think of that?” He laughed again, tickled by the idea.
“I think it makes as much sense as any other explanation.”
Tim found her response amusing as well, then limped ahead to show her out. When they got to the foyer, he lingered to face her.
“You don’t really think Paul Gianis had a hand in murdering Dita, do you?”
“What was he lying for?” Evon asked. “He knew what to say, and more important, he recognized that he had to lie for Cass’s sake. Which means he had a lot of information by then, Tim. Maybe they
were
together that night. Maybe that’s why Cass never wanted to answer questions.”
Tim pondered, but an unhappy thought seemed to pull at his face.
“Don’t like thinking I missed the boat like that,” he said. He considered the prospect for a second, then opened the heavy door.
5
Heather-January 12, 2008
Her given name was not Evon Miller. She had been born DeDe Kurzweil, in the Kaskia Valley in Colorado, and grew up on a family farm, where her father planted alfalfa, pinto beans and corn. He was a quiet, bowlegged man, a Jack Mormon, who’d left the church-and his parents and sibs with it-to please his wife, who said, only after their wedding, that her LDS conversion simply had never taken root in her heart. DeDe was the fifth of seven children, right about the place you’d expect the kids to start getting lost, and she was lost, aware, long before she understood why, that she did not seem to fit. She never knew when to smile, or how to make people like her, especially her mother.
But on the playing field, with a field hockey stick in her hand, she made herself real. Her father had been a baseball star, who’d signed with the Twins after his mission and played A ball until his family needed him on the farm. All her father’s athletic ability had lit in her-at least that was what both she and her father believed. She fell asleep a hundred times with a stick in her hand, thinking over her moves. She was runner-up for Female Athlete of the Year in Colorado, went to Iowa on a full ride, and in 1984 was selected for the US
Upstairs, she collected her parka, which had ended up on the sofa next to his heavy book. There was a faint odor in the kitchen of last night’s dinner, which she hadn’t noticed when she came in.
“You keep going with those myths,” she said.
“Oh, I will. Was just reading about the myth of love when you rang the bell.”
“Myth?” said Evon. “You mean love’s not real? I wish somebody had told me that before I moved in with my girlfriend.”
She rarely said anything so personal, but she couldn’t pass on the joke. Not that it was all a joke in Heather’s case. But Tim was mightily amused. He laughed in his husky way for a long time.
“No,” he said, “Aristophanes says we were all four-legged creatures to start, some the same sex, but most half man and half woman. Zeus was afraid us humans would get too powerful so he sliced us right down the middle, and everybody spends their life looking for the matching piece. What do you think of that?” He laughed again, tickled by the idea.
“I think it makes as much sense as any other explanation.”
Tim found her response amusing as well, then limped ahead to show her out. When they got to the foyer, he lingered to face her.
“You don’t really think Paul Gianis had a hand in murdering Dita, do you?”
“What was he lying for?” Evon asked. “He knew what to say, and more important, he recognized that he had to lie for Cass’s sake. Which means he had a lot of information by then, Tim. Maybe they
were
together that night. Maybe that’s why Cass never wanted to answer questions.”
Tim pondered, but an unhappy thought seemed to pull at his face.
“Don’t like thinking I missed the boat like that,” he said. He considered the prospect for a second, then opened the heavy door.
5
Heather-January 12, 2008
Her given name was not Evon Miller. She had been born DeDe Kurzweil, in the Kaskia Valley in Colorado, and grew up on a family farm, where her father planted alfalfa, pinto beans and corn. He was a quiet, bowlegged man, a Jack Mormon, who’d left the church-and his parents and sibs with it-to please his wife, who said, only after their wedding, that her LDS conversion simply had never taken root in her heart. DeDe was the fifth of seven children, right about the place you’d expect the kids to start getting lost, and she was lost, aware, long before she understood why, that she did not seem to fit. She never knew when to smile, or how to make people like her, especially her mother.
But on the playing field, with a field hockey stick in her hand, she made herself real. Her father had been a baseball star, who’d signed with the Twins after his mission and played A ball until his family needed him on the farm. All her father’s athletic ability had lit in her-at least that was what both she and her father believed. She fell asleep a hundred times with a stick in her hand, thinking over her moves. She was runner-up for Female Athlete of the Year in Colorado, went to Iowa on a full ride, and in 1984 was selected for the US
Similar Books
