The Evil That Men Do Read Online Free Page B

under her breath for what felt like the fortieth time that hour when she heard the thrumming engine of Riley’s bike, pulling up outside. The cavalry, at last.
    The bell over the door rang as Roberta led Riley into the office. Neither of the girls took advantage of the cracked leather sofa in what served as a waiting area for the few visitors that R3 received in person. Ricki grunted a greeting, but felt her face break into the first smile of the day when Roberta dropped the receipt from the police department relating to the re-capture of Mike Lewis.
    “Well done sis! That’s the first good news I’ve seen all day,” she said.
    “It’s not much, Ricki. Guess it’ll pay for some new paperclips or something. Don’t we have anything a bit juicier to get my teeth into? I’m bored as hell.” Roberta twirled her finger through her hair. Roberta’s smile dropped instantly.
    “Bored!” she spat. “Bored, are you? You could come and help me sort through all this rubbish and see if we can’t scrape a few more contracts out of them.” She leaned in her chair to eyeball Riley, who was, at a shade over five feet tall, comfortably hidden by Roberta’s frame. “And you, miss-can’t-get-out-of-bed-too-drunk, you should have been here hours ago. Why am I picking up after your screw ups, again?” Riley looked sheepish.
    “C’mon, Ricki I-” she began, but Ricki silenced her with a raised finger, now in full flow.
    “C’mon Ricki, nothing. We’re on our own here, ladies. We need to actually work as a team. At least Roberta gets the odd bounty, and I’ve pulled in three investigations across the county, this month alone. Riley, what exactly have you done for us lately? It’s two thousand and fourteen, and you’re acting like you’re waiting for Rock Hudson to walk off the set and carry you off into the sun. A woman has to make her own way these days, get it?” Ricki’s jaw was set, eyes feeling on fire. It felt good to have an enemy to fight, someone to blame, even though it wasn’t all Riley’s fault and she knew she’d feel bad about it later.
    “Oh, screw you!” Riley’s yell of pent up anger made Roberta physically jump backwards, standing on Riley’s toe, who was evidently so angry at their elder sister that she barely noticed, or didn’t give any outward appearance of feeling pain.
    “I’ve had a really, really crappy morning, I stink, and I could do without the third degree from you, alright? Gosh, when did you turn into such a bitch? You’re not Mom. And you never will be.”
    Riley folded her arms in defiance. Ricki stood up out of her chair, finger jabbing and ready to unleash full scale Vaughan family warfare, when her eyes widened at the shape of the man at the door, coming in. Great. A visit from Dumont was all she needed right now. The portly white man—fifty-something and looking a good ten years older, thanks to the combination of what Roberta had always said was a drinking problem of herculean proportions and the wizening effects of the Savannah climate—waddled into the office. Ricki stood motionless, finger in the air. Riley and Roberta turned on the spot and muttered their greetings to the man whose visits invariably accompanied a lecture.
    “Good morning, Mr. Dumont,” Ricki echoed her sisters. “How are you feeling today?”
    Dumont had, for as long as Ricki could remember, been on the verge of dying for any number of imagined maladies, and Dumont had been a friend of the Vaughan family since before any of the girls had been born.
    “Good morning ladies. I do hope I didn’t interrupt any, uh, family business?” Dumont ignored Ricki’s question, and Riley shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, as she had always done since a child when caught fighting with either Roberta, or Ricki, or both.
    “Nothing we can’t sort out, Mr. Dumont,” Roberta said, falsely cheery.
    “Yes, we’re just discussing paperwork,” said Ricki.
    “Ah, excellent,” said