Send Out The Clowns (Frank River Series) Read Online Free Page A

killers. He thought
of himself as a good profiler, but he knew there were others who were better.
Referring back and forth between the textbook and various web sites, he made
copious notes. He had opened his third beer and put an exclamation point after
the last line of his summary when he heard the key in the lock. Pauley was
home.
    She burst through the door, a wisp of dark brown hair
swinging on her forehead, and slapped her briefcase on the table, leaving her
hands doubled into fists on the top. Her plum colored flannel blazer over a
matching silk mock-turtleneck sweater accented her dark eyes, and gabardine
stretch wool trousers of winter white accentuated her shapely legs. Frank
thought her beautiful. Who needed to be married? They had lived together for
years, with one minor separation, and had all the intimacy, both communal and
carnal, enjoyed by most married couples.
    "Tough day?" he asked.
    She reached over, picked up his beer and took a long drink
as an answer. Frank stood and pulled another from the refrigerator. He opened
it and held it out as a toast. Pauley pushed the hair off her face. It flopped
back. She ignored it.
    "I thought you'd be asleep after your early
start." She took a sip from the can. "I'm glad you're not." She
slouched in a chair opposite from Frank. "Want to tell me about it?"
    "Why don't you change and then we can catch each other
up."
    She stared at him for a moment as if mesmerized by what he
had said, and then nodded. "Good idea, but if 1 get too close to a bed, I
might not come out until morning."
    "I'll come with you and do my best to keep you
stimulated."
    She grinned. "Start with a hug. I could use a
hug."
    He came around the table and pulled her to her feet and into
a tight hug. "Welcome home, working girl."
    "Oh, Cisco. It's good to be here. When I'm with you,
the world feels safe." She pushed away and headed for the bedroom, pulling
him along by the hand. He grabbed her jacket as she shrugged out of it, and
leaned back against the wall, sipping his beer as she undressed. When she went
to the dresser in nothing but her panties, and bent over to select a tee shirt,
he felt like grabbing her, but he did not. That would come later. It was a
ritual. She pulled on the white and black striped shirt, wiggled into black
sweat pants and brushed her hair into a ponytail that she secured with an
elastic band.
    They carried their beers back to the living room and flopped
side by side on the sofa. She snuggled up under his arm, pulling her feet under
her on the couch. "Did you eat?" she asked.
    "I did the sausage and cheese bit. How about you?"
    "I grabbed a salad at the food court. Maybe I'll eat a
banana and have a yogurt before bed. Tell me about the new case."
    "Later. I want to hear what has you so frazzled
first." He waited through her silence, knowing she was organizing what she
wanted to say.
    "You remember when I told you I was thinking of
expanding the business? Well, you should always be careful what you wish for.
Mark Simeon was waiting for me when I got back from lunch. He's an executive
with a corporation that markets women's wear under several franchises, Evelyn's
Visions being the most popular here in Houston. He said he had researched The
Fashion Center and me, and wanted to make a proposal. To make a long story
short, he wants to finance two new stores under my name, one at the Woodlands
Mall and another at Katy Mills."
    "Wow. That sounds exciting."
    "Oh, it's exciting all right. But it's a lot to
consider."
    "How much cash would you have to cough up?"
    Pauley swung her legs off the sofa and reached for her beer.
She took a sip and rested her elbows on her knees as she stared at the top of
the coffee table. "That's the quandary. I would not have to invest
anything up front, only my name and management. However, it would mean giving
up forty percent of The Fashion Center and only receiving a minor percent of
the new stores until the Simeon's company recovers fifty percent of