Dolled Up for Murder by Jane K. Cleland Read Free Book Online Page A

Hank. I’ll see you tomorrow … okay?”
    He turned his head just enough to lick my hand. His eyes stayed closed. I stood up, and he settled back in, curling into a perfect comma.
    I took a deep breath, getting ready to face the police presence outside, wondering how long it would take Wes to get the skinny on Alice’s will.
    *   *   *
    The Rocky Point police station was located on Ocean Avenue, across from the beach. It had been designed to match the prevailing architectural style in the affluent New Hampshire seacoast town and looked more like a cottage than a police station, with shingles weathered to a soft dove gray and trim painted a muted Colonial blue.
    Ian Landers stood in the lobby staring at the bulletin board where notices about church suppers vied for space with top-ten wanted lists. Even from the back, he looked as if he were fuming. He was tall and broad, and his shoulders were hunched forward in a fighter’s stance. His arms hung by his sides, his fingers curled into half-fists, and his legs were spread just right for springing. He turned at the sound of the door latching shut. His eyes were ice blue and as cold as a glacier.
    â€œJosie Prescott,” he said, sneering, his tone daring me to deny it.
    I fought the urge to look away, to move away. “And you’re Ian Landers,” I said, keeping my voice even.
    â€œAlice Michaels died at your place.”
    â€œIn the parking lot, yes.”
    â€œI wish I could have been there to watch.”
    I stared at him, unable to think of what to say.
    â€œThe police think I killed her,” he continued. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
    Ellis stepped out of his office, and from his expression I could tell he’d overheard Ian’s last comment and wasn’t impressed. Ellis shut the door behind him with a snap and took several steps toward Ian, moving in too close for most people’s comfort, challenging his dominance and independence. Ian took a step toward Ellis, signaling that there was no way he was backing down. Even though their interaction was nowhere near me, I stepped back instinctively as I looked from one to the other. I could feel the crackle of male energy in the room.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Chief?” Ian asked, using the same tone for the word “chief” that I might use for “cockroach.”
    â€œFollow me, Landers,” Ellis said, his voice frigid. He turned to me, and as if he were an actor switching scenes, he was a different man. Instead of looking at me with the stony eyes and severe expression he was showing Ian, he smiled. “Thanks for coming in, Josie. We’ll be right with you.”
    I watched as Ellis led Ian down the hallway that led to Interrogation Room One. Ian’s strut communicated that he felt both cocky and unperturbed.
    â€œJosie?” a female voice called. I looked around. Detective Claire Brownley stood on the other side of the lobby. She smiled at me. “Come this way.” As we walked, she added, “Chief Hunter wanted me to let you know this is simply a formality. You should be done in no time.”
    â€œThank you,” I said. I glanced back over my shoulder, but Ellis and Ian had turned the corner. I’d love to be a fly on that wall, I thought.
    Detective Brownley was right. Forty minutes after she led me to Interrogation Room Three, she escorted me back to the lobby. I hadn’t been able to add anything to my original story, and she didn’t push too hard to try to make me.
    As we passed Interrogation Room Two, I glanced in the long, skinny window fitted into the wall to the right of the door. The venetian blind slats were open, and I recognized Lenny Einsohn, Alice’s recently fired chief operating officer. His brow was furrowed; he was biting his lower lip; his shoulders drooped; overall, he looked as if he were about to cry. I slowed down. A video camera was aimed at his face, the