Mostly Murder Read Free Page A

you to be excited while I’m gone.” Short pause again. “Are you sleeping okay? Any more nightmares?”
    See? The guy is overly concerned. She guessed she’d fib a bit about the nightmares, though, just to give him peace of mind. “Nope. I’m definitely on the mend, at least ninety-nine percent and climbing.”
    â€œI miss you,” he said again.
    â€œWell, come back home then. I’m tired of sleeping in that big round bed in that big palatial house all by myself. The French Quarter’s great, but lonely with you gone. What’s taking you so long, anyway? Slumming it with Wills and Kate at Buckingham Palace?”
    â€œI wish. My patient is doing much better, but I’ve got to tie up a few loose ends. I should be home on Tuesday. Take that day off and the next one, too. I’ve got good things planned for us in that big round bed in that big palatial house.”
    Claire smiled. Sounded fine to her. Oh, yeah, definitely. “We’ll see, Black. Gotta go. Nancy just walked in with pizza and sodas, and the game’s about to start.”
    â€œBe careful, Claire. I mean it. Juan and Maria are there with you, right?”
    Juan Christo was Black’s new home security guard/gardener who carried a shotgun, and his wife, Maria, was their cook/housekeeper who probably carried a pistol, too, knowing Black. The middle-aged couple hailed from Guatemala and kept the house running like clockwork and kept Claire company when Black was gone. She liked them both a lot. “They’re fine, too, and hover over me almost as much as you do.”
    â€œOkay, then. Remember, duck and weave. Stay close to Zee.”
    The duck-and-weave thing was a private joke, his way of saying be careful. “Quit worrying. I’m fine. This place is a veritable no-crime zone.”
    They hung up just as Nancy put down the pizzas on Claire’s desk and said, “Does this smell scrumptious, or what? I got us some cheese bread, too.”
    Yes, indeed, it did smell wonderful. Claire opened the lid and chose a nice big piece as Nancy pulled an ice-cold Pepsi off the plastic rings of the six-pack she carried. She handed it to Claire. “Oh, God, look, they’re interviewing Jack Holliday. Man, is he hot, or what?”
    â€œYep, number eleven, Tulane jersey retired,” Zee agreed. “Best college quarterback who ever threw a football, in my humble opinion.”
    â€œBest looking, too,” Nancy added.
    Claire took another bite. “So he doesn’t play for the Saints?”
    â€œOne season, then he blew out his knee. He lives here in New Orleans, though, and was the biggest star Tulane had ever seen, so everybody loves him. Now he represents most of his former teammates and is making tons of money.”
    Nancy rolled her chair up beside Claire. Nancy Gill was just gorgeous. She looked like some Amazon warrior of old, very tall and beautiful, with long reddish brown hair and eyes the exact same russet color. She was top-notch at her job, too, almost as good as Buckeye Boyd, Claire’s ME up in Missouri. Nancy had been trained at the NOPD, too, by some of the best CSI techs in the country and was ultra-meticulous about her crime scenes. She had become a good friend, especially when Black was off jet-setting around the Continent and Claire could actually spend some time with her.
    The pizza tasted delicious, and up on the screen, the stadium in Dallas was alive with thousands of insane fans screaming for blood. The Saints were on the field, milling around, all in gold and black, and the Dallas Cowboys were, too, all of them no doubt just waiting for the head-on, bone-cracking collisions to ensue. Claire had run into a few of those, too, and had the residual scars to prove it.
    Just as the Saints completed pass one, Zee’s cell phone rang. His ringtone was the voice of the suave and sexy Usher, of course crooning a love song called “Here I Stand”