The Trials of Nikki Hill by Dick Lochte, Christopher Darden Read Free Book Online Page B

because he hadn’t seen the action movie for which she’d literally changed the contours of her body, adding both muscle and a firm roundness. She was definitely something to see, a few steps beyond beautiful, with smooth chocolate skin and startling sea-green eyes. Not to mention cheekbones and ripe lips that had sold more silicone than Pamela Anderson’s breasts. Her fitted jacket had a collar that reminded Doyle of those Nehrus that used to be hanging at the back of his closet. Her slacks were a matching peach color, snug enough to show off her supertoned body.
    Willins rose from the soft, dark green sofa to shake Doyle’s hand. Dyana Cooper nodded to him. Both were showing the tension they were under, but it looked better on her. Anything would. Even worry lines.
    “Honey, maybe Mr. Doyle would like a drink,” Dyana said.
    “Not just yet,” Doyle said.
    Her gaze was unrelenting. He wondered what she thought she was seeing. Physically, he was nothing special. A thick-bodied guy with a round cherubic face under a full head of well-groomed hair. His clothes were expensive enough. He was clean cut. A redhead in D.C. whom he sometimes slept with once told him he had the pampered appearance of an overindulged child. He didn’t mind that image. Mother love could be quite enjoyable. In any case, it wasn’t his looks that impressed the paying clientele.
    “We better get to it,” he said.
    “Hobie says you’ve... helped people out of this kind of difficulty before,” Dyana said. Her voice was so mellifluous and sultry, she turned ordinary conversation into song.
    “I’ve salvaged a reputation or two,” Doyle said.
    Willins said, “Hobie, maybe we’re getting worked up over nothing. According to the TV, they picked up some young guy.”
    “Jimmy’s here as...added insurance,” Adler said. “Just in case.”
    Doyle lowered himself warily onto a soft plump chair near the woman. “Hobie has filled me in on the problem, but I’m not crazy about secondhand information. I’d appreciate it if you could indulge me by going through it all again.”
    Dyana told him of a meeting she’d had at Madeleine Gray’s home on the day of the murder. Maddie had threatened her with blackmail. Angry words had ensued, followed by a brief struggle. Dyana had left, with Maddie shouting after her like a fishwife.
    The tale took eleven minutes by Doyle’s watch. When Dyana was finished, he asked several questions, ending with, “So, to your knowledge, the only thing connecting you to the late Maddie Gray is a Manila file containing material you’d just as soon not wind up on the cover of the
Globe
?”
    She nodded.
    Doyle turned to Adler.
    “Being taken care of,” the agent said.
    “Good,” Doyle said. “I’ll have that drink now.”
    Dyana took their orders. She returned with an inch of bourbon in a glass for Doyle, a Perrier for Hobie, and iced teas for her husband and herself.
    Doyle raised his glass. “To the State of California,” he said. “May it find the poor bugger they’ve arrested guilty as charged.”
    “I’ll drink to that,” Hobie added.
    Doyle downed his whiskey, enjoying the way it burned his throat, beating a molten path to his chest. He smiled at Dyana Cooper Willins and idly wondered what part of the story she had just told him, if any, had been the truth.

E IGHT
    T here was considerable LAPD activity in front of Madeleine Gray’s canyon home as Nikki Hill drove up. She was showing her credentials to the cop at the door when Morales arrived behind her.
    “Let this beautiful woman in,” he told the cop. “She just happens to be the special assistant to our illustrious district attorney.” This last was said with heavy sarcasm.
    Inside the building, Nikki said, “You got some problem with me, Carlos?”
    “No way,
chica.
” He seemed genuinely surprised.
    “Then what’s with all the cutie-pie stuff at the door?”
    “It’s your boss I doan like.”
    “Why?”
    He cocked his head to one