Murder Take Two by Charlene Weir Read Free Book Online

How does Ms. Edwards feel about that?”
    Susan wondered what Parkhurst felt about this whole tangle of lovers and ex-lovers. His face gave nothing away, it was cold and hard.
    â€œThat,” Nick said, “is none of your business.”
    â€œWrong, Mr. Logan.” Parkhurst backed off and slid a haunch on an end table. “A young woman was killed. That makes it our business.”
    â€œThe two aren’t connected.”
    â€œMs. Edwards was supposed to be on the railing when it went down. Figure it out, Mr. Logan.”
    He already had, Susan thought.
    â€œYou accusing me of trying to kill Laura?” There was something wrong about the way he said that. No explosive anger, the way an innocent man would normally respond.
    â€œWhy would you harm Ms. Edwards?”
    Parkhurst’s questioning differed greatly from Susan’s soft-voiced, “Let’s find out what happened here.” He dripped disbelief and made suspects so angry they got tangled up in explanations and said things they didn’t mean to.
    There was none of the laid-back California slouch about Nick Logan now, he was paying close attention, but if he was angry he was keeping a lid on it.
    â€œI wouldn’t harm a hair on her head.”
    â€œWho wants her dead?”
    â€œNo one that I know of.” Nick swallowed.
    The third lie. A suspect often swallows when he lies.
    â€œGuess. Give me names.”
    â€œLaura’s a beautiful woman,” Nick began.
    Parkhurst waited, the panther in the brush patiently waiting for the right moment.
    â€œShe raises passions…”
    â€œNames.” Parkhurst waited a little less patiently, the panther flicking the tip of his tail.
    â€œI don’t have names,” Nick said. “You have to understand a lot of emotions run around on location. It comes from being so close together and being focused on the film. I don’t know of any anger or hatred toward Laura, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. The costumer because Laura always slumps during fittings? The script writer because she transposes two words of his dialogue? None of that means anything and it’s all forgotten when the director calls a wrap.”
    â€œWhat part do you play?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPart,” Parkhurst said slowly and distinctly, “as in role. In the movie.”
    â€œThe hero,” Nick said dryly. “I play a cop.”
    â€œUh-huh. That’s all for now, Mr. Logan. You’re free to go.”
    Nick remained seated, took a breath, opened his mouth to ask a question, then changed his mind and got to his feet. He nodded and strode firmly—even in thongs—out. Hero exits trailer.
    â€œGot a little carried away, didn’t you?” Susan rose, stood behind Parkhurst in the doorway, and watched Nick Logan’s back.
    â€œHe was using me.”
    â€œUsing you?”
    â€œResearch for his role. I thought I’d show him how a hick cop conducts an interrogation.” Parkhurst smiled, the panther seeing the antelope stumble. “Before I’m done, I may show him a thing or two he’s never seen before.”

5
    Where the hell was Clem Jones? Yancy was worried about her. He hadn’t seen the director’s assistant since she’d upchucked on the barn floor. She didn’t have sense enough to take care of herself, he’d known smarter geese. With her pink hair she wasn’t easy to miss, so how come he hadn’t spotted her anywhere, in his sheepdog missions to separate one individual and herd him along to the Edwards trailer? The director, Hayden Fifer, took some nipping at the heels to keep moving.
    â€œThis is wasting time,” Fifer said.
    He wasn’t a large man, but he had a large voice. It must come from all that commanding of actors, the power went to his head. It sure didn’t go to his heart, that was black like his hair. Black hair threaded with gray, gray beard and eyes