Terminal (A Lomax & Biggs Mystery Book 5) Read Online Free

my head, the gown hiked up, and the already immodest opening parted like the Red Sea.
    I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing.
    “You think this is funny?” she said.
    I looked down at the two bloody corpses on the floor. “Officer, from where I’m standing, nothing is funny, but I’ll bet from your point of view, this little tableau has got to be a fucking laugh riot.”

CHAPTER 3
    AND THEN, A familiar voice. “Don’t shoot him, Officer. He’s one of the good guys.”
    “Are you sure?” the cop asked. “You can’t see his face.”
    “Are you kidding?” the voice drawled. “I’d recognize that asshole anywhere. He’s my partner.”
    “Officer,” I said, “if Detective Biggs has finished making a bad situation worse, can I put my hands down and lower my skirt? I’d like to show a little respect for the dead.”
    “Trust me,” Biggs said. “The living will be even more grateful.”
    I dropped my arms and turned around. The cop was young, blond, and pretty—not an easy trifecta for a woman trying to get ahead in a male-dominated department. But to her credit, she was the one holding the gun on me.
    “Detective Lomax,” she said, holstering her weapon. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen anything like this. You had a gun. There were two dead bodies. I just—”
    “You did fine. What’s your name, Officer?’
    “Barclay, sir. Dawn Barclay.”
    “This building is about to be inundated with cops, Barclay. Before they come running and gunning, get on the radio and tell them the situation is contained.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And tell them nobody leaves. Get IDs and hold everyone who hasn’t already bolted until we find out what happened here.”
    “Yes, sir,” she said and backed out of the office.
    “So,” Biggs said, “apart from the body count, how’d that prostate exam go for you?”
    “I managed to get out of it again. Meanwhile, you were parked in front of the building. I figured you’d come running when the first shot was fired. Where the hell were you, anyway?”
    “Victoria’s Secret, shopping for peignoirs.”
    Terry Biggs wants to be a stand-up comic after he retires from the force. So he’s always on. The problem is, he doesn’t know when to turn it off.
    “For God’s sake, Terry, look at this mess. Lighten up on the jokes, will you?”
    “I’m not kidding. You said you’d be about thirty minutes. Next week is my anniversary, so I drove over to the mall. I was trying to decide between a lace camisole and a satin baby doll when I heard ‘shots fired’ over the radio. At least give me some credit—I got here in time to save your sorry ass. Not to change the subject, but is that your gun on the floor?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Don’t bend over. I’ll get it.” He reached down, picked up the Glock, and smelled it. “You didn’t fire your weapon,” he said.
    “No. The man on the left is Calvin Bernstein. At least that’s what he told me just before he gave himself a Mossberg Pump-Action facelift. But first he unloaded three rounds into the other guy. Him I know. His name is Kristian Kraus. He was Joanie’s doctor.”
    “Holy shit. He was Joanie’s oncologist?”
    “No. He’s a fertility specialist. He tried to help us get pregnant, but in the end, all he managed to do was be the one to deliver the bad news.”
    “Fertility doc,” Terry said, handing me my gun. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of profession that gets you peppered with a12-gauge. You think it was personal?”
    “I don’t know. The last thing he said to me before he killed himself was ‘Tell Janice I love her.’”
    “Then let’s go find Janice,” Terry said.
    “I have a better idea,” I said. “Why don’t you walk over to Heller’s office and find my clothes?”
    “Me? I’m a goddamn detective. Send a uniform. Tell Barclay to go get your stuff.”
    “Terry, there is no way in hell that I’m asking a hot blond cop to bring me back my pants and underwear,” I said. “You get