Dead by Any Other Name Read Online Free Page B

fingers through my curly hair and gave it a quick shake. “Now, detective, has anyone ever been prosecuted for crossing police tape?”
    â€œI’m not in the mood for cute.”
    Well, I tried.
    I ducked under the tape.
    â€œHi,” I said.
    She remained silent. I thought I detected a little quarter-smile, but clearly she was in no mood for chit-chat.
    â€œI’m not sure Natasha Wolfson’s death was an accident or a suicide. I think she may have been murdered,” I said.
    Chevrona narrowed her eyes and stayed closed-lipped. It always got to me when she did that.
    â€œI spent an hour with her on Saturday. In my opinion she wasn’t someone on the verge of suicide.”
    â€œI deal in facts.”
    â€œA person’s psychological state is a fact.”
    â€œIt could have been an accident. This area is called Devil’s Kitchen for a reason. See these pine needles? When they get wet they’re as slippery as ice. When someone falls on them, they start to slide downhill toward the lip of the ledge and they can’t stop themselves. That’s how most of the deaths up here happen.”
    â€œThat would be a terrifying final few seconds, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œYeah, and during the fall itself they may bounce off the rock walls. No pretty corpses up here.”
    â€œEven though she lived in Phoenicia, Natasha was a real urban type, I just can’t see her hiking up here alone.”
    She nodded and a little warmth sparked in her eyes. God, she was great looking, with that smooth mocha skin and sleek jawline. Why the hell did I wear hiking boots to go hiking when I could have worn those nice flattering high-heel sandals?
    â€œHave you found any evidence that she wasn’t here alone, I mean any fingerprints or shoeprints or anything?” I asked.
    â€œAt this point any shoeprints we find will belong to one Janet Petrocelli.”
    â€œOh God, I’m sorry … I didn’t even think of that.”
    â€œThis is a crime scene, not a scavenger hunt.”
    There was something exciting about being reprimanded by Chevrona, she was just so … manly , in a womanly way. If that makes any sense.
    â€œWe dusted for anything we could find, but that storm washed away everything—we came up zippo.”
    We stood there on the mountaintop ledge for a moment.
    â€œSo … how’s everything?” I asked.
    She looked down, rubbed the back of her neck; when she looked up her natural authority was tinged with that sweet vulnerability that made me want to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.
    â€œThings aren’t bad.”
    â€œAre you—”
    â€œBack together with Lucy?”
    I nodded. Lucy was her former partner, who left her for a man.
    â€œNo.”
    There was another pause, filled with her loneliness.
    â€œOkay, listen, do you mind if I poke around a little, up in Phoenicia? Natasha kinda got to me.”
    â€œLotta stuff gets to you.”
    â€œYeah.”
    We looked at each other—it was a moment . Then she looked down and cleared her throat.
    â€œOkay sure, poke all you want. And if you find anything, let me know right away.”
    â€œYes, Sir, I mean M’am, I mean Chevrona, I mean Detective Williams.”
    She laughed, and it felt like a mountain stream, rocks and all.

nine
    I headed up to Phoenicia, parked in town and, trying to look inconspicuous, strolled up Natasha’s street toward her little house. I’d called George’s friend Tony to see if he knew anything more about the identity of the man he’d seen Natasha with; the only information he gave me was that “on a scale of one-to-ten, he’s a twenty.” I was looking for something a little more concrete.
    There was her small sad cabin, hidden in its jungle of evergreens and scrubs. I looked up and down the street before I walked up the path to the screened porch. I tried the door, it was open, I stepped inside.