Deadly Interest by Julie Hyzy Read Free Book Online Page A

jumble. A beautiful black girl just
a few years younger than I, Jordan was one of my best friends. She
waved to get my attention and I could tell from the look in her
eyes that it had to be important.
    “ What’s up?”
    She wheeled back a foot or two and swiveled
in her chair to hand me one of those pink “while you were out”
notes, her feminine handwriting spelling out a detailed message.
“Your sister’s home called. A Lester Raymond,” she said,
summarizing. “He tried to get ahold of your folks, but couldn’t
reach them.”
    Lucy’s institution, The Riverside School,
was more of a halfway house than an actual educational
establishment. The place had an incredible reputation. Despite our
initial misgivings about leaving her in the care of others—with the
benefit of hindsight, we knew placing her there had been exactly
the right decision. She’d flowered and matured in the past
year—more than we could have expected.
    Downstate, the residence sat about halfway
between Chicago and my parents’ home in Arkansas. They made it a
point to visit her monthly, as did I, but the school only called
when Lucy needed something unexpectedly. “He say what he
wanted?”
    “ No. And I asked,” she
said with a little frown. “This new patient confidentiality
thing.”
    I glanced down at the name. “I’ll call
him.”
    “ How come he couldn’t get
ahold of your parents? Are they okay?”
    Out of the corner of my eye I saw William
making his way toward his office. “Yeah. Very okay. They left this
week for a month-long trip to Europe with their pinochle club
friends. Can you believe it? I hope I’m as energetic as they are
when I get to be that age.”
    With a twist in my stomach, I thought about
Mrs. Vicks—my parents’ age, now dead—killed in her home in cold
blood.
    “ Um,” Jordan said,
interrupting my musings, “you read today’s paper yet?”
    I had a copy I’d shoved into my briefcase
before I left the house. I’d brought it with me to read the
coverage of Mrs. Vicks murder—although I had my doubts that it
would’ve made the morning edition. “About to,” I said.
    “ Um,” she said
again.
    Immediately, my guard was up. “What is
it?”
    Her left hand reached over to a stack of
files, and she turned to pull a cut-from-the-paper article out from
beneath them. Swiveling back to face me, her expression was
apologetic. “Probably better you hear it here, first.” As I grabbed
the paper from her, she whispered, “Nobody’s going to take this
seriously, okay?”
    Sandra Stanek, gossip columnist
extraordinaire, stared up at me from her photograph at the top of
her daily column. In today’s writings, devoted entirely to the
Davis Award ceremony the night before, she described all the glitz
and glamour of the event, with names of attendees in bold print. My
eyes, however, were drawn to the single picture, dead center in the
column. A publicity shot Bass insisted upon. Dan and I posed
together, he holding the coveted award, me looking like it didn’t
matter that he’d won it. At the time the photographer flashed the
shot, I remember shooting a glance Dan’s direction, thinking that
I’d like to take the award and shove it up his pompous ass.
    My eyes caught the
caption: Alex St. James gazes warmly at
Davis Award recipient Dan Starck after his charming acceptance
speech. The eyes say it all, don’t you think, folks? Might there be
romance blooming here, again?
    My jaw dropped.
    Jordan’s voice was soft. “I thought I better
show it to you before anybody else does.”
    Speechless, I looked up. While fury bubbled
up from my chest, Jordan looked at me with sympathy.
    “ Goddamn it,” I said,
finally, slamming the article onto her credenza. “Can’t I catch a
goddamn break? Ever?”
    “ Sorry, Alex.”
    I shook my head, taking a deep breath to
calm myself. “Not your fault.”
    * * * * *
    Ten minutes later William appeared at my
door. “Hi,” he said. “Got a minute?”
    “ Of