Dead Write: A Forensic Handwriting Mystery Read Free

covers and backed up against his long, lean body. After a couple hundred nights of practice they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.
    A couple of hours later, after they had steamed up the windows, then dozed for a while, Claudia told him about the phone call.
    “You’ll never guess who my new client is.”
    Jovanic got up and headed for the bathroom, his voice floating back to her. “Is it, ummmm, Michelle Pfeiffer?”
    “You wish.”
    “Barack Obama?”
    “Now you’re just being silly.” She heard the toilet flush and the faucet running; then he was back, diving under the covers and snuggling next to her. She gave his arms a vigorous rub. “You’re freezing.”
    “So warm me up,” he said, nuzzling his cold chin against her neck and making her squirm.
    She slid a leg over his hip. “You plumb wore me out already, Columbo.”
    “You wimp,” he teased. “So, tell me. Who’s the new client?”
    “Her name is Baroness Grusha Olinetsky. She runs a ritzy dating club.”
    The rude Bronx cheer he gave made his opinion of her new client more than clear. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. She was on some trashy TV show a while back. What does she want with you?”
    “To analyze handwriting, of course.” She turned over to face him. “What’s wrong?”
    He gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t know, babe. She looked like a sleazy character to me. You might want to think twice before you get involved with her.”
    Claudia arched up and gently caught his bottom lip between her teeth, then let go. “I’ve had other sleazy clients and you’ve never complained. Anyway, my job is to analyze handwriting for them, not judge their morals. And check this out—she wants me to come to her office in New York and meet with her. Tomorrow.”
    Jovanic’s fingertips halted their lazy journey along her thigh. “New York? What about Annabelle?”
    Annabelle Giordano was a troubled young teen who was staying in Claudia’s home for a while. She had been another intended victim of the psychopath. Although she put up a front of fierce independence, the girl’s vulnerability was apparent to Claudia, especially in sleep, when nightmares made her cry out in panic.
    “You know I’ll make arrangements to take good care of Annabelle,” Claudia said. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem. Are you gonna be a problem?”
    He frowned. “That kid clings to you like a life preserver. She’s not going to like it.”
    “I know, but maybe it’s about time she started loosening her grip on me a little bit.”
    “Now you’re just rationalizing. I can see that you’ve already decided to go.”
    Claudia tickled the hair curling across his belly. “Listen, Columbo, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re the cop; I’m the one with the psych degree. I’ll take good care of Annabelle. Don’t worry your pointy detective head about it.”
    Jovanic was silent for a long moment before his fingers started moving again, brushing her skin with the lightest of touches. “Why doesn’t this woman just FedEx you the handwriting she wants analyzed?”
    “I don’t know, except it sounded like she didn’t want to let the samples out of her sight. Maybe there’s something valuable about them. I’ll find out when I get there.”
    “How long?”
    “She didn’t know for sure, but at least three or four days, maybe a little longer.” Claudia braced herself for a bigger objection, mildly surprised when he didn’t offer further argument. She added, “Andy Nicholson’s been working for her. Apparently he screwed up—no big surprise—and that’s why she wants to hire me.” The prospect of being called in to fix Andy’s mistakes pleased her immensely. “How could I refuse an opportunity like that? It’s one thing that I personally can’t stand him, but he gives the whole field of handwriting analysis a black eye.”
    Jovanic continued to look unhappy. “I think you ought to stay out of his face, babe. That asshole