Cold Case Squad by Edna Buchanan Read Free Book Online Page B

escaping
convict's front teeth. The Russian sub was seized. So were the exiles
when a taxi driver ruined their getaway by refusing to allow a bazooka
in his cab.
    I lie wide awake in the dark, checking off a mental list of other
cases of Miami madness. None I can remember affected natives.
Eventually it occurs to me that this is not putting me to sleep, which
I desperately need. I pad out to the kitchen for another beer as a
lonely wail shatters the night.
    He runs inside when I open the door, jumps right onto the bed, and
curls up, purring. I resign myself to his company. Then I must have
dropped off because the next thing I know, the feathery branches of the
wild tamarind tree outside the window are drenched with sunshine,
occupied by screeching birds, and I am late for work.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    Nazario sipped a
cortadito
from a tiny paper cup as Stone
accessed the Miami-Dade County marriage license database.
    "Damn waste of time," Stone muttered.
    "Hey, we got to keep the boss happy."
    "Impossible with that woman."
    "Women always complain more," Detective Joe Corso said from an
adjacent desk. "Why do you think they call it bitching?"
    "Lie low, Corso," Stone warned him, punching computer keys. "Don't
let her drag you into this one. She in yet?"
    "Don't see her." Nazario craned his neck. Riley's office looked
empty and the civilian secretary, at her own desk, was happily chatting
on the phone. "Nah, Emma looks too relaxed."
    "Got a hit." Stone chortled. "Here's the widow. Whoa. Once, twice,
three times."
    "What's her story? She a serial bride?" Nazario peered over his
shoulder.
    "Must keep trying till she gets it right." Data flashed across the
computer screen. "Here we go. Marriage License issued to Natasha
Tucker, twenty, and Charles Vincent Terrell, thirty-four, almost
fourteen months before his flame-out in May of 'ninety-two. The widow
Terrell, now twenty-two, and a Martin Asher, age forty-one, apply for a
marriage license on November twenty-seventh, 1992."
    "Six months a widow. That's all?" Nazario wiped a fleck of coffee
foam from his mustache and leaned over Stone's shoulder. "Thought that
arson investigator said she took it hard."
    "Must have bounced back. Maybe she doesn't like living alone. Look
at this one. Natasha Tucker Terrell Asher, twenty-five, and Daniel P.
Streeter, fifty-four, issued a marriage license on January fourth, of
'ninety-five."
    "She digs older guys. This broad ever get a divorce? Or do they all
spontaneously combust?"
    "We'll see in a sec." Stone's fingers flew.
    "Wouldn't that be something?" Nazario said. "The lieutenant keeps
yapping for results. How cool would it be to give her a black widow?"
    "No such luck." Stone scrolled through new data. "Husbands two and
three must have safer hobbies than tinkering with old cars. Two
divorces on record.
Nada
in the marriage department since
'ninety-nine. She must be footloose and single these days. Let's check
property records. Whoa, the Streeter house was assessed at two point
six mill. Looks like she kept it, then sold it for three point one.
Shows a Gables by the Sea address now. Same as her current driver's
license."
    "No wants, no warrants," he said, accessing records. "Some traffic.
Speeding tickets galore. Likes the fast lane."
    "Hmmm. Busted. Twice. Both retail theft, shoplifting. Saks and
Neiman
Marcus. The little lady's got sticky fingers."
    "Sells a house for more than three mill and she's boosting from
stores?"
    "Fast lane, what can I say? Risk taker, klepto, or just a thief.
I'll get copies of the reports."
    "Hey," Nazario said. "Look who finally showed up. Where you been,
Sarge?"
    "Call your wife," the tiny middle-aged secretary sang out.
    Craig Burch looked pained. "Yeah, right away," he said.
    "What's that smell?" Stone asked.
    Nazario's nose wrinkled, his eyes narrowed.
    "Jeez, you smell it, too?" Burch said. "My efing Blazer stinks. Made
my eyes water driving in. Started last night, but it's worse now. Like
something died in