Twice Dead by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

governor?”
    â€œNot you yourself, no. Ms. Matlock—Rebecca—let’s talk about it. We can all sit down and work this out. If you don’t want to come back to New York, I can come wherever you are to talk.”
    â€œI don’t think so. Now, I don’t want you to be able to trace this call. I will say it once more: The madman who shot the governor is out there and I’ve told you everything I know about him. Everything. I never lied to you. Never. Good-bye.”
    â€œMs. Matlock, wait—”
    She hung up the phone, aware that her heart was pounding deep and hard. She’d done her duty. There was nothing more she could do to help them.
    Why didn’t they believe her?
    She had dinner that night with Tyler McBride at Pollyanna’s Restaurant nearly at the end of West Hemlock, on a small curved cul-de-sac called Black Cabbage Court.
    She said over their appetizer, “What’s with the names in this town?”
    He laughed as he speared a cold shrimp, dipped it in horseradish, and forked it into his mouth. “Are you ready for this? Okay, there was this rumor that began floating around in 1912 that Jacob Marley Senior found out his wife was sleeping with the local dry-goods merchant. He was so upset that he poisoned her, and that’s why he renamed all the central streets after plants that are toxic.”
    â€œThat’s amazing. Any proof of it?”
    â€œNope, but hey, it makes for a good tale. Maybe he was a closet Borgia, who knows? I think my favorite is Foxglove Avenue. It runs parallel to West Hemlock.”
    â€œWhat are some more?”
    â€œThere’s Venus Fly Trap Boulevard, which runs parallel to West Hemlock to the north, Night Shade Alley, that’s where my gym is, and Poison Ivy Lane, to the south of us.”
    â€œWait, isn’t the Food Fort on Poison Oak Circle?”
    â€œYes. Since I live outside the center of town, it’s Gum Shoe Lane for the likes of me. However, since you’re in Marley’s house, you get his pièce de résistance—Belladonna Drive. Even better, you’re not in a big house next to all the peasants, no, you’re out there all by yourself, surrounded by all those beautiful trees and only that narrow driveway to get to you.”
    She was laughing as she said, “Why did he name his own street Belladonna Way?”
    â€œThat’s supposedly what Marley Senior used to poison his unfaithful wife. Pollyanna’s Restaurant is on Black Cabbage Court. That’s the name for this plant in Indonesia that’ll kill you with a single lick. It evidently has this sugary-sweet smell and taste, and that’s how it gets its victims.”
    She was laughing when a man came up to their table and said, “Hello, Tyler. Who’s this?”
    Becca looked up at the older man, who had lots of white hair, a good-sized belly, and a big smile. He said, frowning down at her, “Hey, you look familiar, you—”
    â€œI’ve known Becca for nearly ten years, Bernie. We were at Dartmouth together. She got tired of the rat race in New York City and decided to move here. She’s a journalist. You want to hire her for the Independent ?”
    She hadn’t gone to see Bernie Bradstreet for the simple reason that it had dawned on her that she didn’t have any legitimate ID and now her face was plastered all over TV. She sat there, smiling stupidly, not knowing what to say. She’d forgotten to say anything to Tyler. She was a fool.
    Very sharp gray eyes focused on her. He held out his hand, with large, blunt fingers. “I’m Bernie Bradstreet.”
    â€œBecca Powell.”
    â€œYou write what? Crime coverage? Weddings? Local charities? Obits?”
    â€œNone of those things. I mainly write human interest articles about strange and wonderful things that are all around us. I try to amuse people and perhaps give them a different perspective on things. I’m a