Murder Over Cocktails: The 2nd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) Read Free

cabinet?”
    “Can we establish some kind of agreement indicating that I’m your client and that barring the disclosure of any future felonious activity you will keep what we discuss in confidence?”
    “Sure,” I said. I was hooked. This would be way more exciting than busting a sexually aggressive bartender.
    I turned to my computer and restructured my standard contract to fit the parameters of confidentially he’d requested and then printed two copies. After Jack read the fine print and was satisfied, we each signed both copies. His last name was McGuire. I gave him one copy and slipped the other into an empty file folder.
    “So?” I asked.
    “He was robbing the house. I can give you the address, but I doubt the break-in was reported.”
    “And your friend thinks the owner of the house is the killer?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why is that?”
    “He’s seen the owner on more than one occasion.”
    “I see. Is there a reason why you’re not mentioning the name or gender of this killer?”
    Jack hesitated a moment. “I guess I was hoping for some assurance that you can help my friend before I give you those details. What can you do without putting yourself at risk?”
    “I have friends too. One of them is a police detective. With your permission I’ll speak with him about the case and find out what he thinks. I won’t mention your name of course, or your friend’s, should you disclose it to me.”
    Jack looked into his coffee cup. “I hate cops,” he muttered.
    I could understand that. “More coffee?”
    “No thanks. What do you think he’ll say?”
    “He’ll ask me where I got the information. I can tell him it was an anonymous phone call. He’ll want the name of the homeowner and their address. I imagine he’ll check that individual for priors. After that, I don’t know.”
    “Okay,” he said. “It’s a start. Her name is Margaret Sectio.” He spelled the last name and gave me an address on Woodside Road. “It’s up in the hills. There are three houses on the property. Two small, one large. The tapes are in the family room of the main house, in a cabinet under the television set. The tapes my friend watched show Margaret killing her lovers after having sex. Do I need to give you a retainer?”
    “What the hell kind of name is Sectio?” I asked, looking at my notepad. “A thousand will be enough to start.” I glanced up. “Does she know someone’s been in her house?”
    Jack pulled a money clip out of his back pocket and peeled off ten hundred dollar bills.
    “My friend cut a hole in a sliding glass door,” he said, “but the cabinet containing the videos appears undisturbed. He rewound the two tapes he watched, and relocked the cabinet before leaving.”
    “I’ll need a phone number where I can reach you,” I said.
    “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.” He took one of my business cards from the ceramic dish I keep on my desk.
    I wrote out a receipt for the thousand dollars and reached for the card he had taken. I added my home and cell phone numbers and gave it back to him, along with a copy of the receipt.
    “I’m usually here by nine,” I said.
    “Thanks. I feel better just knowing you’re on the job.”
    I searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but his relief seemed genuine.
    We shook hands again, with the same electrifying results, and I watched him walk away, resisting the urge to sneak out to the parking lot and copy down his license plate number. He moved gracefully, almost gliding, and I had the feeling that if Jack were to approach from out of my line of sight at some point in the future, I wouldn’t hear a sound.

Chapter 3

    M aggie Sectio returned from her business trip to Atlanta late Monday morning. She drove directly home from San Francisco International Airport, entering the house through the front door. She was feeling edgy, having been unable to complete her customary ritual after dispatching her latest lover. The roommate had come home unexpectedly. It was