Stabbing Stephanie by Evan Marshall Read Free Book Online Page B

snob. It’s just that you don’t expect it.”
    â€œI understand.” Greenberg’s tone was serious now. “It’s human nature. We have preconceived notions about people, or kinds of people. But the reality is that many homeless people were once like you and me. They’ve fallen on hard times and can’t get back to where they were.”
    Jane thought once more about the bottle in Ivor’s pocket, about his strong breath.
    â€œOthers, of course,” he went on, “have mental or emotional problems.”
    â€œI see,” she said thoughtfully. “What else do you know about him? About his background, I mean. Is he a former millionaire, for example?”
    â€œWhat!” He roared with laughter. “You have a vivid imagination—too vivid. Due, I suspect, to reading too many of the books you sell.”
    She frowned. “Of course I read the books I sell. How do you expect me to sell a book I haven’t—”
    â€œI’m kidding! To answer your question seriously—no, I know nothing of Ivor’s background, have no idea if he was once a millionaire. And frankly, Ivor’s background is not our concern.”
    â€œNo need to get huffy. I’m just curious about people, you know that.”
    â€œI’m glad. Especially that you were once curious about me.”
    She smiled. “Still am.”
    â€œGood. Don’t forget I’m taking you to dinner and a movie Saturday night. You can further satisfy your curiosity then. Oops, better go. I just got to the gas station and Chaz is waving at me, and I don’t think he’s trying to say hello.”
    â€œOh! Okay, bye, then, I’ll talk to you,” she said, and hung up quickly.
    It was exciting having a police detective for a boyfriend. Lately Jane had been making a point of not prying too deeply into his work, though. The previous spring, he had been investigating the murder of a young woman found hanging in the woods behind Hydrangea House, the only inn in Shady Hills. In the end, it had been Jane who solved the mystery, thanks in part to her being privy to information Greenberg had about the case. He told her later he’d been reprimanded for allowing her to “insinuate” herself in police business to the degree she had. The last thing Jane wanted was to get Stanley in trouble, so she resolved to respect his professional boundaries. Suddenly a thought occurred to her: Had she crossed those boundaries inappropriately just now, when she’d asked him about Ivor? Nah.
    Besides, she and Stanley were comfortable enough with each other that he would tell her if she crossed the line. That’s what she liked about him—his complete honesty. Since they’d begun seriously dating six months ago, she had come to value this quality in him, along with his kindness, gentleness, and down-to-earth intelligence. He was someone she simply enjoyed being with, so that their quiet Friday or Saturday nights—going to the movies or a play, an occasional opera or ballet, before dinner—were enough for her.
    With a little smile, she returned her attention to Nathaniel Barre’s The Blue Palindrome, turned over the title page, and began to read.
    Almost immediately, Jane could tell this was something special. The writing was crisp and spare, launching immediately into a story of a young American in Venice who had recently broken up with his fiancée and was inconsolably lonely. Even contemplating suicide, he wandered the ancient streets in search of solace, though without any idea where it could possibly come from. He earned his living teaching English at a small university, but he began to miss his classes. Letters from the university started to pile up at his door . . .
    The intercom buzzed. “Abigail Schwartz on line one.”
    Abigail could only be calling about Elaine Lawler, a client of Jane’s who wrote Regency romances. Jane liked Abigail, who was