Murder Under the Italian Moon by Maria Grazia Swan Read Free Book Online Page A

without him? I wasn't strong enough.
    Kyle kept his head and shoulders upright. He may have been hurting more than I was, but he wasn't giving up.
    "Why, God? Why, Nick?" I choked on my questions.
    Kyle drove the rest of the way in silence.

 
CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    The phone rang as I ran up the stairs. I answered it in my bedroom.
    "Hello."
    "You sound breathless."
    I frowned. "Who is this?"
    "Larry." He must have misunderstood my silence. "Lieutenant Lawrence Devin of Homicide, ma'am." He spoke in a surprising imitation of the Dragnet monotone. Then he laughed a low, intimate laugh.
    "I thought you were going to call in a week."
    "I'm calling now. How about dinner?"
    Did he want to talk about the case or was this a social call? Did I even care? I kicked off my sandals "When?"
    "Tonight."
    I unfastened my jeans. "Tonight?" Stepped out of them.
    "I drove all the way back from Parker, Arizona, and to be honest, the idea of my dark, empty house doesn't seem very appealing. I'm hungry, so if you haven't eaten, I'd like to take you to dinner."
    I unbuttoned my blouse. "Where are you?"
    "At your gate." That laughter again. "Only kidding—but not too far."
    My bra came off, and then my panties. "Give me thirty minutes. How should I dress?" Was that really my voice? God, I sounded so self-assured I almostbelieved it.
    He hesitated. "Something pink?"
    I laughed at his answer. Typical male. I'd meant if I should be casual or formal.
    "Pink? Maybe. See you soon." Two minutes later I had the water running in the bathtub.
     
     
    From where we sat at Cannon's restaurant, the lights of the boats out at sea looked like fireflies on a sultry summer night. Below us, spotlights flooded The Pilgrim's main mast. The ship was a perfect replica of the vessel that brought Richard Henry Dana into the harbor in 1834. Dana Point had been named after him . We were looking at the same waters, from the same cliffs.
    "You weren't very hungry, were you?" Larry asked.
    I turned away from the harbor.
    "Don't talk much either." His fingers brushed mine.
    The busboy poured the coffee then left.
    "We—I love this place. I haven't been here in a while." I took a breath and then stirred my coffee, avoiding his gaze. I'd mentioned Nick at the beginning of the meal, which made it hard not to think about him.
    "It's a great spot."
    "I like the food." I stopped just short of confessing he was my first date in over two years, and I worried I'd say or do something wrong. He leaned toward me. The flickering candle threw his face into shadow. His lashes flirted with his tanned cheeks every time he blinked, and he stared at me. The warmth of his hand covered mine. I couldn't think, couldn't move.
    The busboy came back to our table. "More coffee?"
    I pulled away and turned my head. I stared at our reflections on the glass wall. We looked joined, as one. I sat back, and we were two again. He didn't let go of my hand. I breathed quietly. Could he hear the racket my heart made beneath the shimmering of my pink silk blouse?
    "How was fishing?"
    He blinked in response. "Fishing?"
    We looked at each other. I nodded, aware my question killed the mood.
    "Fishing—of course—fishing." He drummed his fingers on the table. I waited. The bill came. He pulled out his wallet and put down a credit card. "We never made it out of Parker."
    "We?" I immediately hated that I needed to know who the other half of that equation was.
    "My buddy and I. Steve is a detective with the Parker Police Department. We go back a long way. He was with the Orange County office. Anyhow, I got there yesterday morning. We loaded his Bronco and were ready to take off when they called him in. A drowning case just below the dam. Some kids found the body. I wasn't sure this was the kind of conversation you would have enjoyed with your meal."
    "I'm fascinated. Was it an accident?"
    He shrugged. "Nah. Apparent suicide. She left a note."
    "A woman?"
    "Some local. The family has a history of mental instability.