Perfect Crime Read Online Free Page B

“I’m rushing to a deadline, have you got anything for me?”
    “Your kidnapping victim happens to be in New York,” she said smugly, “It’s like old times. You, looking for people. My staff, finding them in the morgue.”
    “Damn,” he mumbled.
    “You can have the byline if you can add more background.”
    “Don’t joke, Marlayna.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it, Darling,” she purred. “Murder is far too entertaining for a oneliner.”
    In the parking lot, Scott’s footsteps faltered. A note on his windshield was pinned only by the wiper. It read, “Be careful.” The reversed “e” was the only thing that distinguished it from the detective’s verbal warning.
    He needed to think, and having his former editor droning in his ear didn’t allow him to concentrate. With a promise of an article, Scott pocketed the phone and started walking around the vehicle looking for clues, wanting to ensure nothing else had been tampered with. The Alpha Romeo Spider was his prized possession and he didn’t like that it had been touched.
    There wasn’t much traffic in the parking lot. Only one other figure on foot was close enough to be of interest—a woman with red hair. He waited for his suspicions to be confirmed and was fortunate enough to have her drive past. He’d seen the Jetta with its driver before.
    His fingers toyed with the note. Left by friend or foe? The cast of characters was becoming more difficult to label.
    Tessa was unaware of Scott’s scrutiny and suspicions as she drove the trusty car towards her scheduled four o’clock appointment at St. Joseph’s Basilica. The large refurbished church was situated almost in the middle of her old neighborhood, one of the few places in Norwood Park her heart held no ill will.
    It had been a while since she’d been to the building with its stone and stained glass. She sat in the parking lot for a few minutes and looked her fill. Her voice softened to almost a whisper. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”
    The stone steps took her weight easily and the heavy oak door opened with a pull of one arm. The choir practiced Ave Maria, the sound wafting up to the rafters. Tessa stared towards the front and the altar, and instinctively made the sign of the cross and uttered quietly, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”
    She cringed— old habits never died.
    “Buon giorno, Contessa. It’s so good to see you,” a soft-spoken voice whispered beside her.
    For all his fair-haired good looks, he might have been an angel. She, however, knew it wasn’t completely plausible as she spoke, “Hello, Father. How have you been?”
    “Better now,” Father Luke replied, his voice hushed in deference to the surroundings, “Come to my office so that we don’t disturb the rehearsal.”
    The smile broadened across her face as she followed the familiar path, past the pews and on behind the altar. The office was off to the side and surprisingly blocked out almost all sounds of the choir. A small clock ticked away the seconds unobtrusively on the desk, pictures lined one bookcase, while large tomes lined a much larger case on the opposite wall. Nothing opulent adorned this quaint room.
    With a pot of tea between them, they spoke of the comings and goings in the neighborhood and parish over the last year. The goings were what interested her most, since apparently over the past six months or so, several predominant families—or at least their younger members—had indeed left the parish. Some had scattered to various parts, but a few had apparently relocated to the East Coast.
    “It all started in November,” he said. “Perhaps they were afraid of Anthony Aiello, and what he might be capable of.”
    “Specifically?”
    “I’m surprised you need ask. Morgano, Aiello, DeMarco—who will lead, who will follow… who will die?”
    “The never-ending saga.”
    Standing, the priest went to a side desk, removing an old newspaper clipping. “I’m sure you heard