Roses Are Red Read Free

out to my house tonight? On my son’s christening day?”
    “Oh, hell.” Kyle suddenly smiled and lightened his tone. “I had to come over to see the promised child, anyway. Unfortunately, this case is really intense. There’s a possibility the crew is from D.C. Even if they’re not from Washington, there’s still a possibility somebody here might know them, Alex. I need you to look for the killers —
before they do it again.
We have the feeling this isn’t a one-shot. Alex, your baby is a beauty, though.”
    “Yeah, you’re a beauty, too,” I said to Kyle. “You are truly beyond compare.”
    “Three-year-old boy, the father, a nanny,” Kyle said one more time before he left the party. He was about to go through the door in the sunporch when he turned to me and said, “You’re the right person for this. They murdered a family, Alex.”
    As soon as Kyle was gone, I went looking for Christine. My heart sank. She had taken Alex and left without saying good-bye, without a single word.

Chapter 6
    RELUCTANTLY, the Mastermind parked on the street, then walked toward an abandoned project within a stone’s throw of the Anacostia River. A full moon cast a cold, hard, bone white light on half a dozen crumbling three-story row houses with open, screenless windows. He wondered if he had the stomach for this. “Into the valley of death,” he whispered.
    To his further dismay, he found the Parkers’ hideout was in the row house farthest from the street. They were ensconced on the third floor. Their lovely little lodging was furnished with a grimy, stained mattress and a rusted lawn chair. Greasy wrappings from KFC and Mickey D’s were scattered on the floor.
    As he entered their room, he held up a couple of oven-warm pizza boxes as well as a brown paper bag. “Chianti and pizza! This is a celebration, isn’t it?”
    Brianne and Errol were evidently hungry and dug into the pizza pies immediately. They barely greeted him, which he took as disrespect. The Mastermind busied himself pouring Chianti into plastic cups he had brought for the occasion. He passed around the cups and then made a toast.
    “To perfect crimes,” he said.
    “Yeah, right. Perfect crimes.” Errol Parker frowned as he took two big sips of Chianti. “If that’s what you call what happened in Silver Spring. Three murders that could have been avoided.”
    “That’s what I call it,” said the Mastermind. “Absolutely perfect. You’ll see.”
    They ate and drank in silence. The Parkers seemed moody, even defiant. Brianne kept sneaking looks at him. Suddenly, Errol Parker began to rub his throat. He coughed repeatedly. Then he gasped loudly,
“Aaagh! Aaagh!”
His throat and his chest were burning. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to stand, but he immediately toppled over.
    “What is it? What’s wrong, Errol?
Errol?
” Brianne asked, alarmed and afraid.
    Then she grabbed at her throat, too. It was on fire. So was her chest. She shot up from the mattress. She dropped the cup of wine and held her throat with both hands.
    “What the hell is happening? What’s happening to us?” she screamed at the Mastermind. “What did you do?”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” he answered in the coldest, most remote voice she had ever heard.
    The tenement room seemed to be whirling out of control. Errol went into spasms, then fell to the floor in a seizure. Brianne bit a gash in her tongue. Both of them were still clutching at their throats. They were choking, gagging, unable to breathe. Their faces had taken on a dusky hue.
    The Mastermind stood across the room and watched. The paralysis from the poison they had imbibed was progressive and extremely painful. It started with the facial muscles, then moved to the glottis in the back of the throat. The Parkers obviously couldn’t swallow. Finally, it affected the respiratory organs. A high enough dose of Anectine led to cardiac arrest.
    It took less than fifteen minutes for the two of them to die, as mercilessly