Free Murder List by Julie Garwood Page A

another favor. I need you to go to the police station and find out if anything has been done with the investigation. Cordie went last time, so it’s your turn.”
    “My turn? I just joined in this—”
    “It’s still your turn,” Sophie pointed out.
    “Why can’t you go to the police station?” Regan asked.
    “Are you serious? I’m a reporter. They won’t tell me anything.” Before Regan could say a word, Sophie said, “Okay, I know what you’re thinking. You too, Cordie.
    So I’m not a full-fledged investigative reporter yet, and, yes, I know you know I haven’t written any big exposes yet, and I’ve been working my butt off on the advice column at the paper for almost five fuckin’
    years, but honestly, Regan, you should have more faith in me. You too, Cordie,” she said again.
    “Everything’s going to change soon. You’ll see.”
    “I have complete faith in you,” Regan protested. “And I wasn’t thinking…” She suddenly stopped arguing and laughed. “You’re really good, Soph, with the guilt thing.”
    “She’s a pro all right,” Cordie said.
    “I was trying to guilt you, wasn’t I? Old habits die hard, I suppose. But I still can’t go to the police station because there are always reporters hanging around in case something big happens, and one of them will surely recognize me and want to know what I’m doing there. I know how busy you are...”
    “I can make the time,” Regan promised.
    Sophie was thrilled. “You do understand why I don’t want any other reporter snooping around, don’t you? This is my investigation. I want to be the one to nail Shields and get justice for Mary Coolidge.”
    “And maybe get yourself a Pulitzer?” Cordie asked.
    Sophie smiled. “That’s a one-in-a-billion possibility, but one can always hope. That’s not why I’m doing it, though.”
    “We know,” Cordie said. “Shouldn’t you get going, Soph?”
    Sophie looked at her watch and groaned. “I’m gonna be late. I’ve got to get out of here,” she said as she grabbed her purse. “Will one of you pay for my lunch? I’ll pay for dinner tonight.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me,” Cordie said.
    “What time are you picking me up?” Sophie asked. “And who’s driving?” While Cordie was answering, the sleazebag and his babycakes girlfriend caught Regan’s eye as they strolled out of the restaurant. Cordie noticed the change in her friend’s expression and asked, “What’s wrong?”
    “That creepy old man hanging all over that twelve-year-old.” Cordie turned and spotted the couple. “She isn’t twelve. She’s got to be at least eighteen. Otherwise he could get busted.”
    “And he’s what? Sixty?”
    “He could be,” she said. “And the age difference bothers you because…”
    “It’s disgusting.”
    “And?”
    “You’re sounding like a therapist.”
    “I just think you ought to admit why you’re so disgusted. The couple remind you of your creepy stepfather and his sleazy bride.”
    “Of course they do.”
    “Oh.”
    “Oh, what?”
    “I thought I was helping you make a breakthrough.” She smiled then. “You really need to lighten up a little. It’s time.”
    Regan nodded. She knew Cordie was right. She just wasn’t sure how to go about it.
    “I’ve had the most horrible morning. Have you got time for me to do some whining?”
    “How much whining?”

    “A bunch.”
    Cordie laughed. “I can give you ten minutes. Then I’ve got to leave.” Regan immediately launched into her complaints about her job, her brother Aiden’s constant interference, and her run-in with his assistant, Emily. When she told Cordie that Henry had caught Emily snooping in her office, Cordie was incensed and said, “You need to fire her ass.” Regan’s eyes widened. Cordie laughed. “I’m starting to sound like my students. You do need to fire her, though.”
    “I can’t. She’s Aiden’s assistant. He has to fire her,” she said. “But knowing you’re as outraged