Florida Is Murder (Due Justice and Surface Tension Mystery Double Feature) (Florida Mystery Double Feature) Read Online Free
Author: Diane Capri, Christine Kling
survivors claimed was a boating accident. Our source also said authorities are evaluating evidence of a copycat killing.”
Bennett aired old film clips next. I realized why the Bay Body seemed so familiar to me. An eerily similar killing had occupied the news media for months four years ago and repeated endlessly when the killer was convicted last fall.
Two possibilities, both chilling: a serial killer, or maybe the wrong man was convicted. I shuddered.
Bennett ran old interviews following the two prior deaths.
I noticed the lateness of the hour, pressed the mute button, and began drying my hair.
Bent over from the waist, head upside down, I glanced at the screen.
Senator Sheldon Warwick and his wife, Victoria, disembarking from a plane at Tampa International Airport. I restored the sound and heard that the senator and his wife were in town for tonight’s benefit. Kind enough to plug the fund-raiser and George’s restaurant, which was nice. I didn’t see Elizabeth Taylor. Was she there?
When they began the sports report, I pressed the off button and finished up my hair.
I was standing in my closet when George came upstairs, patted my bare ass, and said, “Cute as that is--”
I pulled the creamy cashmere shift out of its garment bag, and held it shoulder level while examining my reflection in the full length mirror. No shape, no style, no color. “It seems like a perfect opportunity for this.”
“How about one of your cocktail dresses?” He suggested, continuing through to his bathroom and shower. The secret to a long marriage, I’d learned eons ago, was separate bathrooms and separate closets, but never separate beds.
I focused on makeup. By the third try, my eyeliner looked less like rick-rack on my eyelids, so I left it alone. After a few drinks, no one would notice. Or maybe I’d start a new style.
Raised my voice to be heard over the pelting water. “This one would get Victoria’s attention. You know how status-conscious she is.”
Senator Warwick’s wife was infamous for drinking too much and engaging in rowdy behavior that embarrassed everyone. She threw heavy objects and connected more frequently than the Ray’s best slugger. No police department in Florida had ever been politically stupid enough to charge her. But George despised negative publicity and he wanted Victoria to behave. I’d been charged with that task during the planning stages.
“But if you’d rather I wore something else,” I called out, “I’d be happy to.”
George said nothing, but I knew I’d snagged his attention.
So I put on the dress and admired. Fabric draped perfectly from neckline to hem. Covered but did not conceal. Soft as a bunny’s tummy. I loved the dress; every woman present would, too. When it came to fashion, pleasing women was more important. Besides, the dress cost so much I’d be wearing it the rest of my life. Might as well start now.
George came around the corner wearing a shaving creamed face and nothing else.
“You know, that’s always been one of my favorite dresses. You look great in it,” he said with such mock sincerity, we both laughed. Tried to kiss me, but I ducked. “You smell great, too,” he said.
George’s fun-loving side has faded somewhat over the years, but a couple of martinis can still bring out the best in him. I ducked away.
“Who’s attending this thing?” I shouted, returning to finish my makeup. Minimalism takes more time than you think.
He said, “All the usual suspects.”
“Meaning Marian and the CJ?” I asked, referring to the guy who thinks he’s my boss and his wife, who are not my favorite couple.
Although CJ is the Chief Judge of the U.S. District Court for the Middle District of Florida, Tampa Division, the title means he’s a paper pusher, not that he gets to boss me around. One of these days, he was going to figure that out. Maybe I could hold my temper until that happened.
“Among others.” George said.
I put down my
Bennett aired old film clips next. I realized why the Bay Body seemed so familiar to me. An eerily similar killing had occupied the news media for months four years ago and repeated endlessly when the killer was convicted last fall.
Two possibilities, both chilling: a serial killer, or maybe the wrong man was convicted. I shuddered.
Bennett ran old interviews following the two prior deaths.
I noticed the lateness of the hour, pressed the mute button, and began drying my hair.
Bent over from the waist, head upside down, I glanced at the screen.
Senator Sheldon Warwick and his wife, Victoria, disembarking from a plane at Tampa International Airport. I restored the sound and heard that the senator and his wife were in town for tonight’s benefit. Kind enough to plug the fund-raiser and George’s restaurant, which was nice. I didn’t see Elizabeth Taylor. Was she there?
When they began the sports report, I pressed the off button and finished up my hair.
I was standing in my closet when George came upstairs, patted my bare ass, and said, “Cute as that is--”
I pulled the creamy cashmere shift out of its garment bag, and held it shoulder level while examining my reflection in the full length mirror. No shape, no style, no color. “It seems like a perfect opportunity for this.”
“How about one of your cocktail dresses?” He suggested, continuing through to his bathroom and shower. The secret to a long marriage, I’d learned eons ago, was separate bathrooms and separate closets, but never separate beds.
I focused on makeup. By the third try, my eyeliner looked less like rick-rack on my eyelids, so I left it alone. After a few drinks, no one would notice. Or maybe I’d start a new style.
Raised my voice to be heard over the pelting water. “This one would get Victoria’s attention. You know how status-conscious she is.”
Senator Warwick’s wife was infamous for drinking too much and engaging in rowdy behavior that embarrassed everyone. She threw heavy objects and connected more frequently than the Ray’s best slugger. No police department in Florida had ever been politically stupid enough to charge her. But George despised negative publicity and he wanted Victoria to behave. I’d been charged with that task during the planning stages.
“But if you’d rather I wore something else,” I called out, “I’d be happy to.”
George said nothing, but I knew I’d snagged his attention.
So I put on the dress and admired. Fabric draped perfectly from neckline to hem. Covered but did not conceal. Soft as a bunny’s tummy. I loved the dress; every woman present would, too. When it came to fashion, pleasing women was more important. Besides, the dress cost so much I’d be wearing it the rest of my life. Might as well start now.
George came around the corner wearing a shaving creamed face and nothing else.
“You know, that’s always been one of my favorite dresses. You look great in it,” he said with such mock sincerity, we both laughed. Tried to kiss me, but I ducked. “You smell great, too,” he said.
George’s fun-loving side has faded somewhat over the years, but a couple of martinis can still bring out the best in him. I ducked away.
“Who’s attending this thing?” I shouted, returning to finish my makeup. Minimalism takes more time than you think.
He said, “All the usual suspects.”
“Meaning Marian and the CJ?” I asked, referring to the guy who thinks he’s my boss and his wife, who are not my favorite couple.
Although CJ is the Chief Judge of the U.S. District Court for the Middle District of Florida, Tampa Division, the title means he’s a paper pusher, not that he gets to boss me around. One of these days, he was going to figure that out. Maybe I could hold my temper until that happened.
“Among others.” George said.
I put down my
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