Homicide in High Heels Read Online Free

be finished in this town."
    "Don't worry," I told him, patting his
shoulder again. "Ramirez is great at his job. He'll find whoever
did this. Everything will be back to normal around here in no
time."
    Unfortunately, it was a statement I only
half believed. Crime scene veteran that I was becoming, I knew that
"normal" was a relative term after a murder had occurred.
    After I'd given an official statement to
Charlie and another uniformed officer (who I didn't know—he must
have been new), I rushed to my cousin's house where I gave her all
the gory deets on the case while making profuse apologies for being
late. She made the appropriate "ohmigod" sounds, and then I took
the twins home and called my best friend, Dana.
    Dana was an actress and, unfortunately,
currently on location in San Francisco, shooting a scene for the
cable drama Lady Justice , and didn't pick up. I left her a
quick voicemail telling her to call me back ASAP.
    Then I put Dora the Explorer on TV
(for the twins) and pulled up the L.A. Informer 's celebrity
news website (for me), following the latest posts and tweets as
news of Lacey's death broke all over the tabloid universe.
Speculation was rampant, but the facts were sparse, limited to
those I'd already learned from Ramirez. I noticed that someone had
leaked the method of death despite the absence of an ME's report,
the case already being referred to in the press as the "Tanning
Salon Murder."
    I hated to admit it, but as much as I'd
tried to reassure Faux Dad earlier, I had to agree with him. This
murder had the potential to be death to his salon.

    * * *
     
    The next morning Ramirez was predictably
gone before dawn. I was awakened by my human alarm clocks an hour
later. Their dual cries, clamoring for their morning bottles, broke
through the baby monitor static on my nightstand as soon as the sun
peeked through the yellow curtains in their nursery. I stumbled to
do their bidding, feeding, changing, and cleaning Livvie and Max.
Then I plopped them into their walkers with a handful of cheerios
each and I shuffled into the kitchen to get some much needed
caffeine while they watched Elmo. God bless that furry little
monster. He was the only way I was ever able to get a full cup of
coffee in the morning.
    Half an hour later I had showered, dressed,
and even managed to apply a little mascara and lip gloss before Sesame Street ended.
    The twins were just starting to fuss when
the doorbell rang.
    "Knock, knock," Marco said, not waiting for
me to answer before poking his head into the house.
    "Come on in," I told him, waving him into
the living room as I surfed the on-demand channels for another
episode of toddler faves.
    As he stepped through the doorway, I noticed
that today he was adorned in a pair of hot pink biker shorts,
matching jellies sandals, and a black tank top with mesh down the
sides. He'd topped it off with a neon green ascot with tiny
hot-pink Chihuahua's on it. The outfit was so loud I almost didn't
notice the petite, Asian woman who slipped into the house behind
him.
    "Hey, you got a pretty nice place here," she
said, eyeing her surroundings. "It's small but homey. Cozy. You
know, kinda like one of those sitcom sets but without all the
expensive furniture and nice artwork and stuff."
    Ling was 4'11", eighty pounds, and had the
kind of smooth complexion and glossy hair that made it totally
impossible to tell her age. She worked at the Glitter Galaxy, a
strip club out in Industry, which meant her fashion sense tended
toward the short, low cut, or pasted on. At first I'd felt sorry
for her and her limited career options. Then I'd learned she made
six figures a year dancing and felt sorry I didn't have the rhythm
to join her.
    "Um, thanks," I said, choosing to take
Ling's words as a compliment.
    "So how are my favorite
almost-one-year-olds?" Marco ask, doing little air kisses at Livvie
and Max. They both greeted him with squeals of delight and
outstretched chubby arms. Auntie Marco had been gun-shy