Haunted in Death Read Free Page B

well-publicized for several weeks. A building with that history generates considerable media attention as well.“
    “Yeah, that’s what I figured. If it was a bargain, why didn’t you snap it up to add it to your mega-Monopoly board?“
    “Haunted. Cursed.“
    “Yeah, right.“ She snorted out a laugh, but he only continued to look out from the screen. “Okay, thanks. See you later.“
    “You certainly will.“
    “Couldn’t you just listen to him?“ Peabody let out a sigh. “I mean couldn’t you just close your eyes and listen?“
    “Snap out of it, Peabody. Hopkins’s killer had to know the building was up for sale. Maybe he bid on it, maybe he didn’t. He doesn’t move on the previous owners, but waits for Hopkins. Goes back to personal. Lures him, kills him, leaves the weapon and the hair clips with the skeleton behind the brick. Making a statement.“
    Peabody huffed out a breath. “This place doesn’t make much of a statement, personal or otherwise.“
    “Let’s toss it anyway. Then we’re going dancing.“
    The Gill School of Dance was on the third floor of a stubby post-Urban War building on the West Side. It boasted a large, echoing room with a mirrored wall, a barre, a huddle of chairs and a decorative screen that sectioned off a minute desk.
    The space smelled of sweat heavily covered with floral air freshener.
    Fanny Gill herself was skinny as an eel, with a hard, suspicious face and a lot of bright blond hair tied up with a red scarf. Her pinched face went even tighter as she set her tiny ass on the desk.
    “So somebody killed the rat bastard. When’s the funeral? I got a red dress I’ve been saving for a special occasion.“
    “No love lost, Ms. Gill?“
    “Oh, all of it lost, honey. My boy out there?“ She jerked a chin toward the screen. On the other side, a man in a sleeveless skinsuit was calling out time and steps to a group of grubby-looking ballerinas. “He’s the only decent thing I ever got from Rad the Bad. I was twenty-two years old, fresh and green as a head of iceberg.“
    She didn’t sigh so much as snort, as if to signal those salad days were long over.
    “I sure did fall for him. He had a line, that bastard, he had a way. Got married, got pregnant. Had a little money, about twenty thou? He took it, invested it.“ Her lips flattened into one thin, red line. “Blew it, every dollar. Always going to wheel the deal, strike the big time. Like hell. Cheated on me, too. But I stuck, nearly ten years, because I wanted my boy to have a father. Finally figured out no father’s better than a lousy one. Divorced him – hired a fucking shark lawyer – excuse the language.“
    “No problem. Cops hear words like lawyer all the time.“
    Fanny barked out a laugh, then seemed to relax. “Wasn’t much to get, but I got my share. Enough to start this place up. And you know, that son of a bitch tried to hit me up for a loan? Called it a business investment, of course. Just a couple months ago. Never changes.“
    “Was this business investment regarding Number Twelve?“
    “Yeah, that’s it. Like I’d have anything to do with that place – or Rad.“
    “Could you tell us where you were last night, Ms. Gill? From say midnight to three?“
    “In bed, asleep. I teach my first class at seven in the morning.“ She sniffed, looking more amused than offended to be considered a suspect in a homicide. “Hey, if I’d wanted to kill Rad, I’d’ve done it twenty years ago. You’re going to ask my boy, too, aren’t you?“
    “It’s routine.“
    Fanny nodded. “I sleep alone, but he doesn’t.“
    “Dead? Murdered?“ Cliff lowered the towel he’d used to dry his damp face. “How? When?“
    “Early this morning. The how is classified for the moment. Can you give us your whereabouts between midnight and three?“
    “We got home about one. We’d been out with friends. Um… give me a second.“ He picked up a bottle of water, stared at it, then drank. He was a well-built