Code Red 12: Justice for All by Joanna Wayne

Author:Joanna Wayne [Wayne, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781426846809
Google: ADQpKPLR7BIC
Amazon: 0373612958
Goodreads: 1506334
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

MARJORIE CRAVEN strolled through her garden on Sunday afternoon, silently lamenting that her annual party had not seemed nearly as pleasurable as in recent years. She just couldn’t get Mary’s death out of her mind and she was certain many of the other guests couldn’t, either.

Max Zirinsky’s presence hadn’t done anything to boost people’s spirits, either. Several guests were convinced that Max was there because he suspected one of them of being the Avenger. Marjorie had to agree, especially since Max wasn’t the type of man she’d expect a refined, sophisticated woman like Callie to date. But he was very masculine—too rugged for Marjorie’s tastes, but sexy all the same. And she’d thought him a very effective chief of police until the city had been plagued with so many unsolved murders.

Marjorie stooped and picked up a paper napkin trapped in the foliage of one of her prize rosebushes. She dropped it into the small bag she was carrying for just that purpose.

The cleanup crew had done an excellent job, but there were always a few things they missed. Scraps of paper stuck in the bushes, the odd crumpled napkin and used tissue blown into the flower beds.

Last year she’d found Henry Lalane’s American Express card in a potted fern. She’d never understood that one. And then two years ago she’d discovered a phone number scribbled on a napkin. A tryst in the making, she’d gleefully imagined, and she’d looked up all her friends’ numbers to see if there was a match.

Lawrence had made fun of her and teased her of being jealous that one of her friends might be engaged in a little extracurricular activity. But that would never happen, Marjorie thought. Lawrence was all the man she needed.

A bluebird sang to her as she neared the cliff that bordered the back of the garden. She stopped close to the edge and looked out over the bay. The view was magnificent. It was the main reason she and Lawrence had bought this house the day it came on the market, even though there was no beach access.

Marjorie stopped to watch a squirrel scurrying up a skinny birch that grew precariously among the rocks, then forgot the animal as she ran to grab a small square of paper before it sailed over the cliff. She did so hate litter.

Curious as always, Marjorie looked to see what was written on the note. It was a list of typed names. She noticed Bernie Brusco’s and Mary Hancock’s at once, then realized she was looking at a list of all the people allegedly killed by the Avenger. Someone was obviously keeping score, though they’d added more names than even the media were attributing to the guy.

Only one name wasn’t typed. It was scribbled in red just below Mary’s name. Number eight.

Marjorie’s hands tightened on the piece of paper, the same way her chest was tightening. This was a list of victims. But the last name on the list was still alive. Clutching the slip

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