A Wrongful Death Read Free Page B

yet?"
    "Another false alarm," he said easily. Lon Clampton had been with her for more than twenty years, but he was not in her confidence and had no idea why she was so obsessed with finding Elizabeth Kurtz, only that she was, and that she was spending a fortune on private detectives. He didn't much care about why, not his job, but he was responsible for hiring the detective firm, and she took it out on him every time a false lead ended up at a blank wall.
    Lon Clampton was a large man, broad shouldered and heavy without being fat. He worked out regularly and was proud of his well-developed body. He liked his job, even if Sarah Kurtz could be a bitch to work for at times. It was not demanding for the most part, and the pay was good enough to make up for a lot of her bitching. Arrange this party, see to the invitations, have the car ready, the plane ready to go, be on call presumably for twenty-four hours a day, but that was misleading. She rarely called in the evening and almost never on weekends. Now that Elizabeth Kurtz had come up again as a concern, he was ready to do whatever was required. More publicity, he could fix that. More rumors, he knew where to get them started. This time she had ordered absolute silence. Not a word to be leaked, not a hint they were looking for her. But finding her had proven to be a sticking point. Although the detectives really were some of the best, they had failed so far. And she blamed him more than she blamed them.
    Sarah heaved herself up from a chair and cast him a venomous look. "If that crew of scumbags can't do the job, get some who can. I'm going to lie down."
    At the door of the living room she paused to give her brother an equally scathing look. "Tell Moira that plane will take off at eleven whether she's aboard or not."
    "Now, Sarah, don't you worry about Moira. We'll be there. You go on and have a rest."
    "Your wife has never been on time in her life," she said. "She'll be late for her own funeral. Eleven."
    Lying down, she realized she was grinding her teeth and forced herself to stop. It was too much, she thought, just too damned much. Where could that bitch be holed up?
    In the beginning they had reassured her. She can't hide with a little boy, she's an amateur, she doesn't know how to cover her tracks. Now, weeks later they were still chasing shadows. Only three people had known about that file — Sarah, Joe and Sarah's brother, Lawrence. And now that bitch had it. Joe should have burned it, she thought then. She should have let him burn it when he first proposed doing so. But she had known it was priceless and said to lock it up. We'll find a use for it. And they had, and would have found it even more valuable than she had dreamed years earlier. Or it could be a scalpel that could slice her dreams to shreds.
    She'll get in touch, she told herself, as she had done repeatedly. We'll meet her demands now, and take care of her later, after the file is secure again. After things are settled.
    She had been outraged and mortified when Terry called to say he would bring his bride over to meet the family, the first she had heard about a wedding. She had ordered Clampton to find out about the girl and her family, and the more she learned, the angrier she had become. A filthy Spanish girl, an equally filthy Spanish mother who had seduced another nice American boy. Elizabeth's father had come from a good American family, probably as easy a pickup as Terry would have been. It didn't matter that her mother's family had money; they probably had stolen it. So they were highly regarded in Spain; anyone could buy a favorable press release. Sarah's outrage had only grown when she met Elizabeth. She had known she would be beautiful, of course. Terry always had an eye for a beautiful girl; she was just one of many. But she had snared him. It had mattered less that she was educated, a major in science, for God's sake! She didn't trust women who were driven, competitive. God alone knew what