Blown Away by Shane Gericke Read Free Book Online Page A

computer for the next day. Boss can’t praise her enough. She’s hardworking, dependable. Just got a double-digit raise.”
    â€œShe still doesn’t sound familiar. What else do we know about her?” Emily said.
    â€œRecently divorced,” Benedetti said. “Ex lives in Los Angeles. Got his name from the address book in her purse. I talked to him an hour ago. Also talked to their son, who runs the London branch of a New York brokerage firm. He was in his flat—that’s Brit for apartment—an hour ago.” He added details from Lucy’s driver’s license, explaining he’d pulled it from her purse on the backseat. Along with a Visa, Master-Card, and $147.30 in cash, all of which ruled out robbery. “Anything ring a bell?”
    â€œNo,” Emily said. “I’ve never heard of this woman.”
    Benedetti closed his notebook. “So much for doing this the easy way. Ready to meet her?”
    Emily clenched her jaw and nodded, neck hairs stiffening in protest. She marched toward the convertible, stopped abruptly as her nose recoiled from a horrid smell. “Branch?” she said, holding the cigar out to her side like half a crucifix. “My, um, gas mask went cold. I need a light.”
    Branch roasted the tip till Emily was shrouded in a thick blue fog.
    Then all three went to see Lucy Crawford.

CHAPTER 4
    Monday, 10 A.M .
Sixty-eight hours till Emily’s birthday
    Bile rose in Emily’s throat as the odor of the decomposing body penetrated her cigar smoke. “Come here often, Commander?” she joked, noticing Benedetti had no tobacco. Nor were his nostrils plugged with cigarette filters or Vicks Vapo-Rub, two other cop-tested odor blockers.
    â€œSure,” Benedetti said, crinkling his wide-set hazel eyes. “Unlike you Goody Two-shoes in Naperville, there’s loads of murderous citizens in my jurisdiction.”
    â€œHow do you deal with it?”
    â€œDeath?” he said. “Like anything else in this business, you get used—”
    â€œNo. The stink.”
    Benedetti tapped his camel’s-back nose. “A few years back my basement flooded in that eighteen-inch thunderstorm. I cleaned it up real nice with bleach and elbow grease, but that damn black mold kept reappearing. Smart me decided battery acid was just the ticket.”
    Emily stared. “You washed your basement in battery acid?”
    â€œSeemed like a good idea at the time,” Benedetti said. “Worked great, too. The acid cleaned that concrete down to the white.” His expression turned rueful. “But I was too manly to wear one of those sissy respirators. Only a paint mask. The fumes burned away my sense of smell.”
    Emily wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “I’m sorry. That must be terrible.”
    Benedetti’s shrug said, “Whaddaya gonna do?” “Has its advantages. I couldn’t smell Lucy if I picked her up for a polka. On the other hand, everything I eat tastes like cardboard. I’d give anything to enjoy my famous jalapeno pork chops again.” He nodded at the Porsche. “Time you two got acquainted.”
    Emily worked up a huge cloud of smoke and began her examination of Lucille Crawford.
    The middle-aged woman’s hair was long. Strawberry blond. Neatly trimmed, held in a ponytail by a spangled purple scrunchie. Emily looked for signs of dye. Nope, Lucy was real to the roots. Pale blue eyes, widely spaced. Broad shoulders just this side of butch. No jewelry except a thin gold wedding band on her left ring finger. Interesting that a divorcée still wore it. Carpenter-style blue jeans with a bit more room in the seat, sopping from the release of her bladder and bowels at the moment of death. Red-striped work shirt with “Lucy” embroidered over the left breast. A support bra—Emily could see the wide, heavy strap through the more faded of the stripes—and steel-toe shoes