Death Leaves a Bookmark by William Link Read Free Book Online Page B

have a drink. Oh, God, Troy, something like this has never happened before!”
    “Call the police. You want me to come over?”
    She hesitated. “Well … yes. Why don’t you?”
    “Be right there.”
    He hung up, combed his hair, and put on his best sport jacket. With Marcella in a very vulnerable mood, maybe this was just the time to be sympathetic and slowly start a relationship. A romantic one.
    My, what a greedy pig you are, he thought with an inner smile. Half a fortune isn’t good enough for you? You want the whole damn pie with a good-looking young woman serving it? Yes. I do.
    The Rodney mansion was a Georgian Colonial, conforming to Rodney’s expensive and elegant tastes. Another asset that would be his and his cousin’s. It was all dark except for a light leaking through the blinds in the living room.
    Marcella had been crying, her eyes red, but that didn’t obscure her beauty. She had almost snow-white blonde hair left long, the way Troy preferred. Blue eyes and a pale provocative mouth that started rumblings in his lower region. A very nice piece, indeed.
    He gave her a hug, his hands just lingering a beat around her slim body. Smallish breasts, but that was fine. He was not a big breast man.
    “Did you talk to the police?” he said, still holding her.
    “Yes. They’ve sent somebody over to the store in case he’s still there, working late.”
    “But you said you called him there.”
    She broke slowly away from him, trying to regain her composure. “I know. But Uncle Rodney sometimes doesn’t answer if he’s in the middle of something. You know that from working there.”
    “Yes, you’re right.”
    She sat down on a plush, comfortable davenport. He joined her, keeping a safe, chaste distance. He had been wrong: this was not the proper time to approach her. But somehow, as never before, she had whet his appetite. She was wearing jeans and a simple gray pullover. In Troy’s mind, she could have been in a bareshouldered evening gown and he probably wouldn’t have been turned-on more.
    He had begun to tell her to stop worrying when the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it.
    The guy who walked in was nothing special, to say the least. He introduced himself with a badge as Lieutenant Columbo. He was wearing a raincoat that seemed to have endured a million rainstorms, and he seemed to be a bit bowlegged as he walked further into the room.
    “Have you found our uncle?” Troy asked. Marcella was still standing.
    Columbo hesitated, his expression darkening over. “I don’t have good news,” he said finally, looking at Marcella. She was stunned into silence.
    “What is it?” Troy asked, his voice intentionally muted.
    “We found Mr. Haverford in his bookstore. A big bookcase had fallen on him …”
    “Good God!,” Troy cried out. He was on his feet now, an arm around Marcella, who was staring in shock at the cop.
    “I hate to say this,” Columbo said, “but there was something additional.”
    Troy felt Marcella’s body tighten with tension.
    “Someone had bashed his head in with one of the books,” Columbo added. “I’m really sorry to have to tell you this.” He looked sorry, as if it had happened to his own uncle.
    Marcella shuddered and collapsed into Troy’s arms. God, he thought, what a lovely bundle. Her Chanel perfume floated up his nostrils like the fragrance of a garden of summer roses. He had to physically restrain himself from cupping her rear.
    “Lieutenant … I don’t know what to say …” He tried to exhibit a deep grief, but he knew not to lay it on with a cement-worker’s trowel.
    Columbo said, “We can’t do much at this time of night. All the other stores are long closed. What’s your name, sir?”
    “Troy Pellingham.” He nodded at Marcella: “Marcella and I are distant cousins.” He didn’t mention he had been working in the bookstore. This guy would find that out in the morning.
    Columbo took some time trying to locate his notebook, finally coming