Read Online To Love and to Perish by Lisa Bork - Free Book Online Page B

sore thumb in among the historic, more picturesque and stately buildings that made up downtown Wachobe, causing the town mucketymucks no end of angst. Of course, now they could sweat the bad publicity of being the hometown of an accused murderer. Wouldn’t that do wonders for tourism? My building would be the least of their worries.
    I unlocked the doors, turned off the alarm, flipped the light switches, checked the messages and my emails, then dusted and straightened my desk. Afterward I wandered into the showroom to inspect the Austin Healey, Mercedes, and Mazda under the pin lights, checking for any fingerprints that might be marring their shine. I didn’t find a one. Nor could I find any scuff marks or dirt on the black and white checkered tiles covering my showroom floor.
    Seated at my desk with not much more work to do, I couldn’t find any mention of Brennan’s case in our local paper either. From the looks of the world news in the paper, reporters had plenty of other violent things to report.
    Cory arrived for work on time at nine a.m., properly groomed with his stainless steel travel mug of coffee in hand. I sat waiting for him in my office. He called out “Good morning, Jo” from the showroom and disappeared into the garage.
    Never once in the last four years had he failed to come in my office to sit and chat for a while, nor in all the years prior when he’d worked for my dad. Most days he even had a few jokes to tell. No way was he going to get away from me today.
    My heels rapped the floor as I marched through the showroom and entered the orderly three-bay garage. Cory had a Volvo on the lift and a Mercedes on jacks. I didn’t know what he was doing to either of them. The garage was his domain, and he was a certified mechanic for at least a dozen common foreign manufacturers.
    â€œI got donuts.”
    â€œAwesome.” With his back to me, Cory stepped into a pair of overalls and pulled surgical gloves over his hands. He’d learned a long time ago that grease under the fingernails didn’t work for a man who liked to be on stage, not to mention he was a bit of a clean freak. No oily floors or smelly rags in his garage.
    â€œWant to come in the office and have one?”
    â€œMaybe later. The Volvo’s due at eleven.”
    I leaned against his workbench, determined not to be driven away. “I called you twice yesterday.”
    He grabbed a wrench and stepped under the Volvo to work one of its bolts. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I had a busy day.”
    â€œI heard you attended Brennan’s hearing. How’d that go?”
    â€œAs expected.”
    â€œReally? I was surprised Brennan doesn’t have the cash to post bail. He must be worth millions.”
    Cory’s shoulders slumped. “Most of his money is in real estate, and he has expenses.”
    â€œLike what?”
    Cory sprang from underneath the Volvo and tossed the wrench on his workbench, where it clattered to a halt inches from the far edge of the bench. “I’m not sure, Jo. I’m not sure about anything, okay? Brennan won’t talk to me. He doesn’t want me around. And you won’t help me. Everything I find out just makes me more worried.”
    I studied his face. Dark circles and a pinkish tinge to the whites of his eyes suggested Cory hadn’t slept much since I saw him last. “Why? What have you found out?”
    â€œNothing.” His face was the picture of innocence.
    Of course, Cory was an accomplished actor, but he’d given the answer Danny always gave Ray and me when we caught him doing something he shouldn’t. Nothing, my sweet fanny.
    I decided to try a new route. “Where were you the rest of yesterday?”
    â€œNowhere.”
    Another of Danny’s favorite answers. I burst out laughing. “Cory, you’re lying to me, and you’re not even doing a very good job of it.”
    He had the