Read Online Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) by Elizabeth Ashby, T. Sue VerSteeg - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Ashby, T. Sue VerSteeg
Ads: Link
abruptly, his shoulders slumping a bit before turning around. He was a nice-looking guy, but I had the distinct impression he was fully aware of that fact. He threw his shoulders back and descended the steps like royalty. "Ms. Milford?"
I nodded. "And you are?"
He traipsed across the drive to the porch stairs. As he ascended, he popped out a hand. "Duncan Pickles, reporter for the Cove Chronicles . Would you have a moment to elaborate on the police's press release about the body that was found?"
I shook my head emphatically and stared at his hand, not even sort of wanting to enter into any niceties with the guy even before I knew he was a reporter. I didn't get a good feeling about him. He had slimy shock journalist written all over his designer labels and fake tanned forehead. "I just got here yesterday. I have nothing to add and no comments on anything."
He leaned casually against the railing in front of me, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, a lopsided smile on his face as though he wasn't quite convinced I was sincere. "Come on. Just give me a little behind-the-scenes dirt. What did Mr. Burke's body look like? I know he fell on top of you."
"Who?" I blurted without thinking.
"Shaun Burke, the dead guy in your closet. Was he a big guy? How old was he? Did you recognize him, or was his body too far decayed? Do you think the newest suspect, Malcolm O'Connell, actually killed the guy or just had a hand in…"
Cris huffed a huge sigh, stepped between us, and straightened the man's collar. At first I thought she'd break into full-flirt mode, which was exactly what the huge smile on Mr. Pickles' face hinted toward as well. But she was channeling a different side of herself—the dark side. I'd only seen this side once, used on Max's wife. She released the cold, hard bitch I always knew was lingering right below the surface some days.
Tightening his tie like a noose around his neck, she purred, "I believe my friend said she had nothing to add. Do you understand those words, or should we pull up the dictionary app on one of our phones for you?"
He grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands away, then loosened his tie. " Honey , I can make or break you in this town. You'd better watch your step."
Cris belted out a maniacal laugh, and then all expression fell from her face. "At this point, I've got nothing left to lose, big guy. If you think you can do more damage than the rag magazines in LA, I invite you to bring your A game and give it a shot."
His brow furrowed as he backed away from her. "You're Cristal. The Cristal. My, uh, ex-girlfriend," he muttered, looking intently at his feet, "used to watch that soap opera."
"And I happen to be a PMS-ing, raging ball of hormones with an attorney on speed dial. Feel like trying your luck at a little Russian roulette?"
I'd never seen such an arrogant, virile man slink away from a slim, willowy woman before, but that's exactly what happened. No other words. Just a berated reporter scurrying down the front steps to his vehicle.
"And don't bother coming back," Cris yelled as he got into his car.
He even squawked the tires as he punched the gas, disappearing down the hill quickly.
Uncle Eddie appeared at the side of the house in a short, worn terrycloth robe, long enough to almost cover his boxer shorts. "Are you ladies okay?" He stood a bit taller, tugging the robe closed more. "I can take care of that guy. I have ways of making a person disappear."
I bobbed my head toward Cris. "I think this situation is handled. Thanks, though."
"Okay," he muttered. "You know where to find me if things change." He glanced around the yard, his eyes darting from tree to tree as though the enemy could be hiding behind any of them, then scurried toward his apartment entrance and disappeared up the stairs.
Cris patted her hands together as though she was sloughing off actual dirt instead of the internal kind he'd made me feel. "My job as your
I nodded. "And you are?"
He traipsed across the drive to the porch stairs. As he ascended, he popped out a hand. "Duncan Pickles, reporter for the Cove Chronicles . Would you have a moment to elaborate on the police's press release about the body that was found?"
I shook my head emphatically and stared at his hand, not even sort of wanting to enter into any niceties with the guy even before I knew he was a reporter. I didn't get a good feeling about him. He had slimy shock journalist written all over his designer labels and fake tanned forehead. "I just got here yesterday. I have nothing to add and no comments on anything."
He leaned casually against the railing in front of me, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, a lopsided smile on his face as though he wasn't quite convinced I was sincere. "Come on. Just give me a little behind-the-scenes dirt. What did Mr. Burke's body look like? I know he fell on top of you."
"Who?" I blurted without thinking.
"Shaun Burke, the dead guy in your closet. Was he a big guy? How old was he? Did you recognize him, or was his body too far decayed? Do you think the newest suspect, Malcolm O'Connell, actually killed the guy or just had a hand in…"
Cris huffed a huge sigh, stepped between us, and straightened the man's collar. At first I thought she'd break into full-flirt mode, which was exactly what the huge smile on Mr. Pickles' face hinted toward as well. But she was channeling a different side of herself—the dark side. I'd only seen this side once, used on Max's wife. She released the cold, hard bitch I always knew was lingering right below the surface some days.
Tightening his tie like a noose around his neck, she purred, "I believe my friend said she had nothing to add. Do you understand those words, or should we pull up the dictionary app on one of our phones for you?"
He grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands away, then loosened his tie. " Honey , I can make or break you in this town. You'd better watch your step."
Cris belted out a maniacal laugh, and then all expression fell from her face. "At this point, I've got nothing left to lose, big guy. If you think you can do more damage than the rag magazines in LA, I invite you to bring your A game and give it a shot."
His brow furrowed as he backed away from her. "You're Cristal. The Cristal. My, uh, ex-girlfriend," he muttered, looking intently at his feet, "used to watch that soap opera."
"And I happen to be a PMS-ing, raging ball of hormones with an attorney on speed dial. Feel like trying your luck at a little Russian roulette?"
I'd never seen such an arrogant, virile man slink away from a slim, willowy woman before, but that's exactly what happened. No other words. Just a berated reporter scurrying down the front steps to his vehicle.
"And don't bother coming back," Cris yelled as he got into his car.
He even squawked the tires as he punched the gas, disappearing down the hill quickly.
Uncle Eddie appeared at the side of the house in a short, worn terrycloth robe, long enough to almost cover his boxer shorts. "Are you ladies okay?" He stood a bit taller, tugging the robe closed more. "I can take care of that guy. I have ways of making a person disappear."
I bobbed my head toward Cris. "I think this situation is handled. Thanks, though."
"Okay," he muttered. "You know where to find me if things change." He glanced around the yard, his eyes darting from tree to tree as though the enemy could be hiding behind any of them, then scurried toward his apartment entrance and disappeared up the stairs.
Cris patted her hands together as though she was sloughing off actual dirt instead of the internal kind he'd made me feel. "My job as your
Similar Books
