Read Online Murder Has Nine Lives by Laura Levine - Free Book Online Page A

“After sixteen years of marriage I know how to defuse Dean. Underneath all his swagger and explosions, he’s really a good guy.”
    â€œDean . . . a good guy?” Zeke scoffed as he sidled up to join us. “You’re a saint to put up with him, Linda. And everybody knows it.”
    â€œStop it, Zeke,” Linda said sharply. “You know I don’t like that kind of talk.”
    â€œSorry,” Zeke mumbled like a puppy who’d just been swatted on the head with a newspaper.
    Zeke continued to hang out with us as we watched Prozac have intimate relations with her ball of yarn, gazing at Linda with pure longing in his eyes.
    After a while, Nikki returned to the soundstage.
    â€œMission accomplished!” she said, joining us. “I found a crystal bowl at a thrift shop just a few blocks away. The Skinny Kitty’s all prepped for Dean. I left it in the kitchen, safe from mischievous paws,” she added with a sidelong glance at Prozac, who by now, in several states, was undoubtedly legally married to the ball of yarn.
    Nikki then headed off to reward herself with a snack from the buffet table, accompanied by Linda and Zeke.
    I would have loved to join them and swan dive into some baked ham, but didn’t dare let Prozac out of my sight.
    Eventually, Big and Bigger announced that they were ready to shoot, and Ian and Deedee were summoned from the parking lot.
    Ian staggered back onto the soundstage, weaving unsteadily on his feet, clearly three sheets to the wind, gulping gin from him Starbucks thermos. He was soon followed by Deedee, who came marching in with a self-assured smile, brow unfurrowed under her ebony chopsticks.
    â€œAre you guys okay?” Linda asked, eyeing Ian with concern.
    â€œFine,” Ian muttered
    â€œI’m perfectly well, thank you,” Deedee said. “Your husband may have issued some ugly threats, but I’ve got nothing to be worried about. Not now. You see, I’ve taken care of him forever.”
    And with those enigmatic words, she bopped over to the buffet table and helped herself to a bear claw.
    Linda, looking somewhat taken aback at Deedee’s pronouncement, summoned Dean and the Pink Panther from their latest “work” session.
    â€œCamille helped me with my makeup,” Dean said as he and the Panther sauntered over to join us.
    I’ll just bet she did , I thought, eyeing a smudge of foundation on the Panther’s thigh.
    â€œOkay, everybody. Quiet on the set!” Ian called out as Dean crossed to the stage and took a seat in the armchair that had been set up for the shot.
    â€œYou ready?” Ian snapped, glaring at Dean.
    â€œProbably the only person on this soundstage who is,” Dean shot back.
    Ian took a defiant slug from his thermos and called out: “Where the hell’s the cat food?”
    At which point, Nikki came rushing in with a freshly styled bowl of Skinny Kitty, along with a tiny silver fork.
    â€œThat bowl isn’t real crystal,” the Panther sniffed.
    â€œIt’ll have to do,” Linda said, steely-eyed.
    â€œYes, let’s get this thing over with,” Dean said, grabbing the bowl and fork.
    â€œOkay,” Ian shouted. “Action!”
    And just like that, Dean morphed from monumental grouch to personable spokesman, all smiles, Mr. Rogers in Armani.
    â€œMy Skinny Kitty cat food is so delicious,” he said, spearing a forkful, “I eat it myself.”
    He held up the chunk of cat food, admiring it as it shimmered in the studio light. Then he popped it in his mouth and, true to his word, ate it.
    He was just about to dig in for another bite when suddenly he clutched his stomach, his face drained of color. The silver fork came clattering to the floor, followed by the bowl of cat food. Seconds later, Dean joined them with a thud, coiled in a fetal ball, moaning in pain.
    For a minute, everyone just stood there, frozen.
    â€œWhat’s