Imitation of Death Read Online Free Page A

Friday night. Both of you go home, take a shower. Hector, play with your kids. Have dinner with your wife. Jorge, go out on a date. Have a beer with your friends.” She gave Jorge a gentle push on the arm. He had dark, expressive eyes. Ina’s eyes. “Have some fun, Jorge. You never look like you’re having any fun.”
    He met her gaze and his features softened. “Haven’t seen you in awhile. You look good, Nikki. I like your hair longer, like this.” He motioned to her hair, which fell past her shoulders. “It’s pretty.”
    Feeling weirdly embarrassed by his compliment, more so because he said it in front of Hector, she took a step back. She tucked a lock of strawberry blond hair behind her ear.
    “I hope Jeremy realizes how lucky he is to have you,” Jorge said, his tone slightly teasing. Jeremy had grown up down the street; the three of them had been pals when they were kids.
    She smiled. “Go home, guys. Workday’s over.”
    Nikki walked away. In the days to come, she’d wish she hadn’t.

Chapter 3
    N o one expects to wake up to a bloodcurdling scream. Certainly not in Beverly Hills. Nikki sat straight up in her bed, her legs tangled up in Sferra Italian bed linens, disoriented. The dogs leapt down, barking wildly, and ran for the closed door.
    Nikki blinked, trying to chase the cobwebs from her mind. Had she been dreaming?
    No, that was definitely a scream. The second one left no doubt in her mind of the existence of the first. It took only another second to figure out that it was her mother’s housekeeper, Ina, screaming.
    Nikki flew across the room and slipped out the door, pulling it closed behind her. Whatever was going on downstairs, Ina didn’t need two nosy Cavies in the middle of it. Behind the closed door, her dogs continued to bark. Still in her preferred PJs—a t-shirt and sweats—she ran barefoot down the upstairs hall toward the open, winding staircase to the foyer.
    Victoria’s door banged open and she emerged, tying a pink silk sash around her robe. She looked up at Nikki, her still-gorgeous face devoid of makeup and the goddess persona. She wore a white silk turban over her platinum hair, and even though half asleep, she appeared much younger than her true age. “What is wrong with Ina?”
    “I don’t know.” Nikki ran past her. “You should wait here.”
    “Ina!” Victoria called in an authoritative voice, hurrying after Nikki. “We’re coming.”
    “What’s wrong?” Amondo ran down the stairs behind Nikki and Victoria. He too was tying on his robe.
    Had Nikki had the time to think about it, she would have wondered where Amondo had come from. Her mother’s bedroom? He had been Victoria’s assistant, her bodyguard, her chauffeur, for more than thirty years. She received him in her suite all the time; her pink boudoir was her command center. But this early?
    Ina screamed again from the back of the house. She was talking half in English, half in Spanish. Nikki rushed into the kitchen to find the housekeeper fumbling with the cordless phone.
    “Ina! What’s wrong?”
    “The . . . ga . . . garbage!” Ina was hyperventilating. She was a tall, thin, regal woman with golden-brown skin and the same expressive eyes as her son, Jorge. But right now she looked as if she had seen a ghost.
    “ Nueve, uno, uno .” She tried to punch the numbers into the phone, made an error, punched the OFF button, and tried again.
    “Ina, I’ll call for you.” Nikki gently took the phone from her, but didn’t dial. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”
    “Calm down, Ina.” Victoria took her housekeeper’s hand and rubbed it between hers, peering up into her face.
    “What’s happened?” Amondo, not usually excitable, was still fumbling to get his robe closed.
    “ Muerto .”
    “Who’s dead?” Nikki murmured.
    “ Lo han puesto en la basura! ”
    “Slowly,” Victoria insisted, lifting up on her tiptoes to look eye to eye with Ina. “ En Inglés, por favor. You know my