To Die For by Kathy Braidhill Read Free Book Online Page B

no sidewalks, no custom homes. Most of the homes were pre-fab or trailers. Off some of the side streets were unmarked and unlit dirt roads. On the opposite side of the street was a huge, dried lakebed with bike lanes. A few good rainstorms in the winter can raise the water level to within 50 feet of the street. Dana drove into the driveway of a brown-and-white mobile home with a brick foundation and parked in the carport. She unloaded the bulging bags from the trunk of the Cadillac but didn’t have time to put everything away before her boyfriend, Jim, came home. As Dana, Jim and Jason were settling down for dinner, June’s friends were knocking on June’s front door, ready to take her out for her birthday. When she didn’t answer the door, they used the house keys still dangling from her golf cart to get into her house.
    Jim asked Dana about all of her purchases and Dana brushed him off, explaining that she got a credit card from Dennis, her estranged husband. Angry, Jim told her to cut up the card and return the merchandise. It started a fight.
    After dinner, Dana fixed herself a vodka and took the drink and phone to the other room. She dialed the number for Murrieta Hot Springs, an upscale spa a couple of cities away.
    â€œHello. I’d like to make an appointment for a massage tomorrow morning.”
    â€œOf course. Your name?” said the receptionist.
    â€œJune Roberts.”
    *   *   *
    â€œHey, Rich, we’ve got another homicide up at Canyon Lake.”
    Greco was on his cell phone, standing in front of the panoramic window in June’s living room. He looked out over the grassy contours of the darkened golf course. It was 7:22 p.m. He’d already walked through the scene and had just called for the county lab techs and the DOJ criminalists to come out. Bentley was his second call.
    â€œWell,” Bentley said, “there’s supposed to be another DA on call. I’m kind of busy. Actually, I’m making dinner.”
    Over the phone, Greco could hear food sizzling and kids in the background. His face grew hot with panic. His heart sank.
    â€œYou do good work,” Bentley said. “You can do this. Why don’t you just brief me in the morning?”
    Greco, ignoring his anxiety for the moment, gave Bentley the rundown: an elderly woman strangled with a phone cord. Lived alone. Some rummaging in the house but no ransacking. No sign of forced entry. Great violence to the victim. Greco walked a few steps and stood at the entrance to the kitchen; he could see into the den/office area where June’s bare legs, splayed at an unnatural angle, stuck out from underneath a heavy wood and leather chair.
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want to come out?” Greco said to Bentley. “It looks like there are a lot of similarities.”
    â€œYeah, I’m sure,” Bentley said. “Just go ahead and process the crime scene and brief me in the morning.”
    Greco felt alone and overwhelmed. All the panic from the last two weeks returned and multiplied. He was already bogged down with work on the Norma Davis homicide and here was another one for him to try to solve. He’d been typing up reports on the Davis murder when Jim McElvain told him about this one. He’d caught the call from dispatch and walked it over to Greco. Greco couldn’t believe it. He thought McElvain was kidding. You’re b.s.-ing me, he’d told McElvain. Greco wanted Bentley’s advice from a prosecutor’s standpoint. If he ever caught the killer, Greco thought, he didn’t want the case to suffer because of his inexperience or because he’d overlooked something important. He needed help.
    I can only do so much, Greco thought to himself. I’m a brand-new detective and I have no experience with homicides. They know that. What else can I do?
    Consumed with his thoughts, Greco slowly walked back outside into the crisp desert evening and