Double Indemnity Read Online Free Page A

take this?”
    â€œSure. I’ve got another copy. But I’ve got to get going. Good luck on your piece, Sam.”
    â€œThanks, Emma.”
    Later, back at his apartment, Sam stared at the photo, looking for clues about what might have gone wrong. Maybe Feldman had been a pill popper. He presented one face to the world—successful entrepreneur and benefactor—but maybe in private he couldn’t deal. There was a story there, a real story. Sam’s fingers itched to trash the fluff piece on his laptop and start fresh. When he first told Emma he intended to write a blog exposé about Feldman, he’d only been half-serious. Now it felt like something he could do.
    The rise and fall of Mark Feldman. But what had happened that night?
    Sam yawned and slapped his face to wake up. When that didn’t work, he retreated to the kitchen to brew some coffee and grab a bite. His stomach rumbled a complaint as he debated the questionably old takeout containers stacked in the fridge. Diving into one of those would be living dangerously.
    He slipped on his sneakers and headed for the Star.
    A blast of air-conditioning scented with stale beer welcomed him graciously. Rachel was behind the counter helping a customer. She looked over when he approached the bar, smiled, and gave him a gesture some would call rude. He gestured right back.
    â€œDamn, you look like crap,” she said once she’d finished up with the other guy.
    â€œGee, thanks.”
    â€œYou’re working too much. You need a break.”
    â€œYeah, well, you know how it is.”
    Before she could say anything else, he gave his order—a car bomb and a double cheeseburger, hold the onions. The Lucky Star doubled as a gay bar on Tuesdays, and you never knew how the night would progress.
    Rachel nodded and turned her slim frame toward the tap. Her cropped shirt showed off her belly ring, which she’d gotten on a dare. Rachel was one of his oldest friends—they’d met freshman year of high school and stayed in touch through college. She was also the only woman he’d ever kissed—just once, as an experiment at a party. It had pretty much proven he was gay. If he couldn’t fall for Rachel, he’d never fall for another woman.
    When she turned back with the pint in one hand and the shot of whiskey and Irish Cream in the other, her sarcastic smirk was firmly back in place.
    â€œNot writing tonight?” she asked.
    â€œI am, but it’s too hot. I can’t even think in my place. This should help.” With a practiced motion, Sam dropped the shot glass into the pint and brought the whole foaming concoction to his lips. He drank half the contents in one huge gulp as Rachel watched.
    â€œFlynn, you’re a freak.”
    â€œThanks.” He finished the rest of the drink and gently slammed the glass back on the bar, feeling better already.
    â€œSo what’re you working on?”
    â€œFeldman obit. It’s due tomorrow. Same old, same old.”
    Rachel sighed. “Poor dude. Poor Patricia.”
    â€œYou know her?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up.
    â€œWe go to the same synagogue. Well, when I go to synagogue.”
    In high school, Rachel had become a devout Zionist, a phase which lasted about six months. She used to brag about being the only African-American lesbian Jew in Stonebridge. Since then her zeal had faded and she only attended services on the High Holidays.
    â€œOh?” Sam asked casually. “What’s she like?”
    â€œQuiet, keeps to herself. Sweet, though. Alex used to babysit the kids when they were really little.”
    Alex was Rachel’s girlfriend. They’d met during college but had only recently become serious. They seemed happy, but Sam was keeping his eye out. He hadn’t allowed himself to get attached to Alex.
    â€œThey’re still little.”
    â€œYeah, they are, huh.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “So, I take