Most Likely to Die (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner Read Free Book Online Page B

moment.
    “And then he shorted out the machine by clutching onto it.”
    Unfortunately, that didn’t make sense. Most people clutched pinball machines when they played them. And it didn’t short them out.
    “Or just two separate events?” Wayne put in quickly. I could hear new eagerness in his low, rough voice. “Sid has a heart attack. Hot Flash shorts out at the same time. And we assume that one event caused the other. What if they were just two separate, coinciding events?”
    My heart pumped new hope into my veins. What if they were just two separate events? All right, Sid has a heart attack. Okay, the machine jams. Machines jam all the time. My pulse was racing now.
    And then I remembered Sid’s hands. They’d been gray and blistered. Burned. As my heart kept pumping, I tried to insert that fact into the theory. Tried to shove it in. But I just couldn’t. Slowly, my pulse settled back down.
    “Hey, you’re not worried about negligence or anything, are you?” asked Becky.
    “Huh?” I said, peering at her again and seeing concern for me in her eyes now.
    “I mean it was your machine and all, but who’s gonna sue you,” she went on. “Jeez, Sid isn’t even married, is he? His parents are both dead, I think.” She paused, her eyes half closed. “Anyway, if anyone, the manufacturer would be liable if—”
    “I forgot, you’re an attorney now,” I interrupted. I didn’t even want to consider legal liability. Moral liability was enough for one day.
    “Personal injury,” she said, fumbling through her purse for a card. I didn’t remind her that she’d already given me one. “Harvey, Payne, and Putnam. Our motto: ‘They screw you, we sue them,’ ‘Out of court settlements are the best revenge,’ ‘Follow that ambulance.’ Et cetera.”
    She handed me the card, laughing. I laughed with her. This was more like the Becky I remembered.
    But the laughter was short-lived. “Lousy job doing lousy work,” she added, her smile a frown now. “And I’ll never make partner. But ‘hey,’ as Sid would say, it’s a living.”
    “Did you see much of Sid when he came back home?” I asked.
    I could feel rather than see Wayne’s glare. But what would a few questions hurt?
    “We went out—oh, I think—a couple of times,” she answered, looking at her lap now.
    “On dates?” I asked perkily. Just between us girls.
    She shrugged.
    I riveted my eyes on her, hoping she’d say more.
    “Could I have a drink?” she asked after a minute or two went by.
    “Apple juice,” Wayne answered. “Water, tea—”
    Becky stood up, wobbling a little as she did.
    “Listen, you guys,” she said. “I’m real sorry, busting in on you like this. I just…” Her eyes teared up again.
    “It’s all right,” I told her. “I’m shook up too. It was an awful thing to see Sid die.”
    “Oh, Kate,” she murmured. “You were always so good to talk to.” She gave me an alcohol-soaked hug, then released me with a moist kiss on the cheek.
    “I’ll get outa your hair now,” she promised and walked unsteadily toward the door.
    “Did you drive here yourself?” Wayne asked before her hand had a chance to touch the doorknob.
    “Yeah,” Becky answered with a quick grin. “D.V. was too busy on the Internet to give me any crap about it.”
    “Do you really think you should drive home alone now?” he asked, his volume low but his tone stern.
    “Haven’t had any better offers, mister,” she lilted her reply. Then she gave Wayne a big wink.
    Wayne’s rough cheeks went pink. Flirtation wasn’t a game he knew how to play. He swiveled his head around in my direction like a startled giraffe.
    “Why don’t you let Wayne drive you home in your car,” I suggested. I had no desire to drive a Fiat. Driving Wayne’s Jaguar’s stick shift on occasion was exotic enough for me. And Wayne had to learn to deal with flirtation sometime. “Then I’ll follow you and bring Wayne home.”
    Luckily, Becky’s house was only