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

careless of her not to have asked if the woman lived alone. She was getting sloppy. The roommate had smelled the carnage and knocked on the bedroom door. Maggie had been forced to deal with her as well, and then left the premises as quickly as possible, barely taking enough time to clean up. The whole experience had left her feeling empty, irritable, and restless.
    She unpacked her suitcase in the upstairs bedroom and went down to the kitchen to make a sandwich. She wasn’t hungry, but it was something to do to distract herself. Maggie went into the family room to eat, opening the drapes to let the sun in. When she saw the hole in her sliding glass door the sandwich plate slipped out of her grasp and shattered on the tile floor.
    “Shit,” she growled, automatically turning to the cabinet under the television. She ran to the front hall for her keys. Her hands were trembling as she unlocked and opened the cabinet. All five tape boxes were still there in the proper order. She took each one out of its box, checking to make sure they were still rewound, then closed and re-locked the cabinet door.
    She cleaned up the broken plate and sandwich before going upstairs to check her safe.
    Before pulling the elaborate mirror away from the bedroom wall Maggie stopped to admire her reflection. She was thirty-eight years old, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at her. The skin around her gray eyes was unlined, and there was no gray in her hair yet. Good genes, she mused. Her lustrous dark hair was the perfect compliment to her fine ivory complexion. None of her features were outstanding by themselves, but the overall effect was striking. She was five-five in her stocking feet and her figure was trim, with the exception of her breasts. The implants were too large for her frame and she was considering having them reduced.
    Maggie was relieved to see that the dial on the safe was still set at thirty-six, where she had left it. She dialed the combination and opened the heavy door. The securities were gone.
    “Shit!” She grabbed the shoebox and knew instantly that it was empty. “Fuck!” She flung the box against the wall and sagged into a nearby chair, her face hot with rage, fear forming a knot in her belly.

Chapter 4

    A fter Jack left my office I drained my coffee mug and picked up the phone to call Detective Bill Anderson at the Redwood City Police Department. Bill and I met earlier this summer, when I was conducting my first murder investigation. At one point during the course of that investigation I had considered the possibility that he might be a homicidal maniac. It’s a long story. When the case was resolved, because the actual killer attempted to take my life, Bill and I started dating.
    Bill is Lakota Sioux on his mother’s side, and Irish on his father’s. He has lightning-sharp brown eyes bordering on hazel and a naturally dark complexion that deepens quickly with time spent in the sun. He’s almost six feet tall, slim but muscular, and his jet-black hair is just beginning to show a little gray around the temples. What first drew my attention to him was his smile. Bill’s whole face lights up when he smiles, completely destroying his tough guy image.
    When he isn’t actively working a case and I’m not taking care of my clients, we occasionally get together in the evenings, and we’ve spent a couple of weekends on my boat. Bill is a thoroughly stimulating companion. He’s smart and funny, plus the chemistry is great. I don’t believe in happily ever after, but for the moment I’m not seeing anyone else.
    I’ve been married three times and have come to the conclusion that marriage is about ownership and security. I’ve never changed my last name, so I was always Nikki Hunter, even when I was married.
    My first husband, Gary, was twenty years old when we got married. I was seventeen, and a senior in high school. We had been good friends prior to tying the knot, but afterwards we just didn’t relate to each