Lady Killer by Lisa Scottoline

Lady Killer by Lisa Scottoline

Author:Lisa Scottoline [Lisa Scottoline]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780061793578
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2008-03-24T16:00:00+00:00


Mary entered her apartment, and Anthony followed, throwing the deadbolt and putting her keys on the side table. She’d grabbed the mail downstairs and set it on the coffee table, then shed her purse and jacket on a chair in the dark living room. On autopilot, she headed for the kitchen across the hardwood floor. She switched on the light and found herself going straight for the fridge.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, surveying its contents. Two old tomatoes, a slim container of skim milk, and a plastic tub of mozzarella balls, which she knew would stink. She hadn’t been food-shopping since her last confession.

“Come here.” Anthony took Mary’s arm and gentled her into a kitchen chair. “Please, sit. The doctor is in.”

“You’re doing the honors?”

“Yes. You stay there and check your BlackBerry three hundred more times.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Oh yes you are. You’re more addicted than I am. We should enter rehab.”

“Hey, I left it in my purse.”

“Uh-oh, it won’t like that.” Anthony slid out of his jacket, placed it around the chair opposite her, and rolled up the sleeves of a white shirt with a European fit, showing lean forearms. His waist was trim in a nice black belt, and his dark pants kept a perfect crease. He went to the fridge and opened the door. “Sure you’re not hungry?”

“Not at all.”

“Got wine?”

“In the cabinet.”

“Which one?” Anthony shut the door, turning, and when Mary pointed, he went to the cabinet and opened the door. “Let’s see, a can of white clam sauce, ceci beans, and four boxes of Barilla spaghetti, each half full. Here we go. A single bottle of merlot. You sot.”

“It was a gift.” Mary’s head was still pounding.

“Corkscrew?” Anthony asked, and Mary pointed until he had located a corkscrew, two wineglasses, two napkins, and a wedge of hard locatelli that he shaved into fragile, thin slices and set on a salad plate with green olives. He smiled, holding the wineglasses crossed in one hand. “Let’s go in the living room. It’ll be more comfortable. Come along.” He tucked the wine bottle under his arm, grabbed the corkscrew and the cheese plate, then led the way into the darkened living room, where he set the stuff on the coffee table.

Mary trundled behind, as if it weren’t her own house. “I’ll turn on a light.”

“No. Let it be. It’s better.”

“Leave it off?”

“Sure. It’s not that dark. I can see.” Moonlight streamed through the front window, falling on Anthony’s back, bringing out the whiteness of his shirt and making a ghostly circle of the rims of the wineglasses. He bent over and poured some wine, which made a sloshy sound when it hit the glass.

“Okay.” Mary sank onto the couch and kicked off her pumps.

“Drink up. Doctor’s orders.”

“Thanks.” Mary took her first sip, which was delicious. She couldn’t help feeling awful that she was home, drinking merlot, while Trish was missing, maybe dead.

“This is good wine.” Anthony sat in the soft chair catty-corner to her, the moon shining on the dark filaments of his hair.



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