The Scent of Murder Read Online Free Page B

going to do with him?”
    â€œKeep him. Hopefully Amy will come back for him soon.”
    â€œAnd if she doesn’t?”
    â€œI’ll worry about it then.” And I told Tim I’d finish locking up. He left a few minutes later.
    I fed Mr. Bones and played with him for awhile, then I put him back in his aquarium and went home. It was almost ten when I pulled into my driveway. By now I was exhausted. I gave Zsa Zsa the shortest walk I could get away with and went inside my house. James came running out to greet me—which was odd—because I could have sworn he hadn’t been in the house when I left. But then, maybe he had been and I just hadn’t noticed. It had been that kind of week. I checked the machine to see if George had called. He hadn’t.
    Oh well, I thought, as I went into the living room and poured myself a double shot of Scotch. There wasn’t any reason he should have—but still, it would have been nice if he had. We had a funny relationship, George Samson and I. I contemplated it, while I went back in the kitchen and opened a can of cat food for James. George had been Murphy’s best friend. Then, when Murphy had died, we’d become friends—sort of. The “sort of” had become more so, and then we’d ended up sleeping together. Which we were still doing. Which I liked. The sex was good. It was the relationship part I was having trouble with, but then that was the part I always had trouble with. Maybe, I decided, as I sipped my Scotch, we just shouldn’t talk at all. Maybe we should just screw. I stretched, finished my drink, and went upstairs. It was time to take a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow was time enough to figure out what, if anything, I was going to do about Amy and her ferret.
    But as I went up the stairs, I began to get increasingly nervous. It was dark on the landing and it shouldn’t have been, because I kept the light on. I told myself the bulb had probably blown. Nevertheless, I found myself reaching for the box cutter I carried in my pocket. I had it out and the blade opened by the time I reached my bedroom. That light was off, too. The problem was: I couldn’t remember whether I’d left it on or off. My heart was pounding as I tried to decide whether or not I was being paranoid. After all, the front door was locked when I came in. I’d used my key to open it. And nothing had been messed up downstairs. No. Things were okay. I was just getting twitchy in my old age.
    I was reaching for the switch when I heard: “You sure as hell took long enough getting up the stairs.”
    By the time my heartbeat had returned to normal, my eyes had adjusted to the dark. George was sitting up in my bed, wearing a grin and a bed sheet. I felt like killing him.
    â€œYou son of a bitch,” I hissed.
    â€œI told you, you should get a security system in here.” George had picked up his knowledge of breaking and entering during the seven years he’d worked as a cop. He patted the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you put that box cutter away and come on over here?”
    â€œWhat if I come over and keep the blade out?”
    â€œWe can do that too, if you want.”

Chapter 4
    I must have dozed off. When I woke up, George was standing by the bed staring out the window. “I may have to go down to New York tomorrow or the next day,” he told me, when I asked him if anything was wrong.
    â€œFamily stuff?”
    â€œWhat else?”
    I sighed. About once every three months, George would get a phone call and head off for the city. When he came back, he’d be in a bad mood for days.
    I leaned on my elbow. “Who’s in trouble this time?”
    â€œOne of my cousins.”
    â€œThe one who drives a taxi?”
    â€œNo. The one who owns a funeral home.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œThe asshole was running a bookie service out of it.”
    â€œSo what do they want you