Some Like It Lethal by Nancy Martin

Author:Nancy Martin [Martin, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Women Detectives, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery & Detective, Philadelphia (Pa.), Blackmail, Blackbird Sisters (Fictitious Characters), Fiction, Millionaires, Fox Hunting, Mystery Fiction, Women Sleuths, Sisters, Women Journalists, General, Socialites, Extortion
ISBN: 9780451211743
Google: fINf8G2u68wC
Amazon: 045121174X
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2004-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

"Next thing I know, Rush is knocking on my window. I let him into the truck and we had a few laughs, I guess. I don't remember much."

To me, she looked as if she hadn't laughed in weeks. "Do you remember going to the barn?"

She turned away from the sink and leaned against the wall, hugging herself, face still turned away from me. "Yeah, I guess so. Rush and I left the truck and . . ."

Her voice quavered, and I said, "Em, I'm sorry."

I saw her summon up the strength to hold back tears, but a single fat one spilled out of her left eye and traced a salty line down her cheek before trembling on the edge of her jaw. She said, "He was a good guy."

I felt my own heart crack and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

She nodded, and a terrible moment ticked by. At last, she said, "Gussie turned up when we went over to the barn. It was early in the morning—before dawn. Rush hadn't expected her, and she caught us together." She frowned. "There were some pictures. Rush was showing them to me and she came in. I remember she got hysterical." Her hand strayed to the bruise under her eye and her frown deepened, as though she was trying to remember how she had come by her bruise.

"What do you remember about the pictures?"

"Nothing. Just— Nothing. But they were both upset about them."

"Did Gussie hit you?"

"I think so. Or maybe it was Rush. He was upset about the pictures. I can't put the pieces together." She ran her hand through her short hair. "There were other people, too, I think."

"Like who?"

She squinted at me. "Tottie Boarman. Does that make sense? And other people from the hunt club. Mostly, I heard voices. I think I was passed out."

"Like who?"

"Tim Naftzinger?" she guessed.

I nodded. "Tim was there with Merrie that morning."

Emma swiped her hands down her face slowly, thinking. "Merrie's a good kid, but I don't remember her being there. I know this is weird, but I think that really stupid guy came in, too. That peckerwood ex-model."

"Dougie Forsythe."

She tried to grin but failed. "I must have dreamed that one, right?"

"Not necessarily. Did you see Rush argue with anyone else besides Gussie?"

Before he was killed. But I didn't say the words.

Emma sighed. "I don't know."

"What about your riding crop? Do you remember what you did with it that morning?"

"Did I have it with me? I don't know. Jesus, I just don't know anything! It's driving me nuts, Nora. I was too drunk. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I—"

"No. You didn't kill Rush."

"But I must have done something. It's got to be my fault that he—that Rush—"

Emma cried then. She clenched her fists against her eyes, but she couldn't stop the tears. Tough, strong Emma suddenly looked lost and scared and bereft. I hugged her, crying, too, while Spike whined and struggled between us.

Emma pulled away first. I wiped my eyes and watched her try to make sense of the jumbled images in her head.

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