The Borrowed and Blue Murders (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries) Read Online Free Page A

hadn’t touched anything.
    Sometime during my statement, Nick appeared. At first glance, I thought it was Tony. But then, I saw the scar etched into Nick’s face. Thank God. Nick was here. We would all be all right. I thought he’d embrace me as Tony had, but he didn’t. He turned to Sam, furious.
    “Sam, what the hell went down here?” As if Sam, the next eldest, should have taken charge, should have somehow prevented the murder.
    Sam hunched slightly, as if dodging blame. “Tony and I came in and this is what we found. We tried to call you.”
    “Yo—Stiles?” Detective Donally seemed surprised to see Nick. In the confusion, no one had thought to mention that Nick, a senior homicide detective, lived in the house. “What brings you here?”
    “Do I need your permission to be here, Detective?” From Nick’s tone, I guessed he wasn’t a fan of Donally.
    Donally eyed Nick. “I took the call, so I repeat my question: What brings—”
    “Don’t repeat. I live here.”
    “What?” Donally was stunned. “No shit.”
    Nick scanned the room, then the patio, coldly, quickly, taking in details.
    “We got to talk, Stiles.”
    Nick raised a hand, making Donally wait as, finally, he stooped and took my hands, his blue eyes searching me. “Are you all right?”
    I nodded. I was, now that he was home. “But I have no idea what happened.”
    He touched my face. “Where’s Luke?”
    I pointed at the ceiling. “Sleeping.”
    Nick looked from me, to Sam, to the body beyond the sliding door. Then he stood. “Okay, then. Jim, Al? A word?” Nick put his arm on Detective Donally’s shoulder and guided him to the far corner of the room where they and the other detective conferred in hushed tones, heads together.
    Beside me on the sofa, Sam kept sighing, rubbing his chin. “Never saw a thing like that in my whole life. How can that son of a gun do it?” I thought he meant the killer, but he was watching Nick. “What kind of a frickin’ job is that? Tell me. Isn’t there a better way to make a living? Why does he do it? Dealing with crap like this? Seeing stuff like this? It’s no kind of life. If he’d go into business with me like I tell him, he’d make ten times as much, believe me.” He sighed again. “But that’s Nick. Him and frickin’ Eli. Always was drawn to the dark side. Don’t ask me why.”
    We sat silently, watching Nick gather information, working with the small army that had set up in our home. Sam’s cell phone rang repeatedly; repeatedly, he told callers he’d get back to them, a family situation had come up—the darnedest thing—and he’d tell them all about it later. Nick and the other detectives were outside on the patio when Tony finally emerged from the powder room, still pale, and delicately lowered himself onto the sofa between Sam and me.
    “You okay?” I knew it was a stupid question even as I asked it; his face looked grayer than the dead woman’s.
    He nodded. The three of us sat unmoving as if joined at the hips, waiting.
    After a while, Tony cleared his throat. “That woman?” His voice was scratchy. “I’ve seen her before.”
    I looked from Tony to Sam, who was looking at me. “Wait. What?”
    “You know her?”
    Sam and I spoke together.
    Tony hunkered down, watching the sliding door. “This morning. I went out to get the newspaper.” His voice sounded raw. “I bent down to pick it up, and she ran right into me. I mean, smack into me. Full force. Bam. I nearly went down.”
    “You’re sure it was her?”
    “Positive.”
    “But why—I mean, how come she’d run into you? Didn’t she see you?”
    Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she wasn’t looking.”
    I didn’t know what to say, and I had no idea what the significance of the collision might be.
    “Are you sure it’s the same broad?” Sam used words like
broad.
    “Christ, Sam—yes, I’m sure. She just about fell on top of me.”
    “But how can you be? That chick out there—she’s all