Free The Last Embrace by Denise Hamilton Page A

all the actresses crazy for Bugsy Siegel?”
    “Bugsy Siegel was shot to death in his Beverly Hills living room two years ago. His killer was never caught. What’s that got to do with Kitty Hayden?”
    “Maybe she liked the fast life too, and it caught up with her. I’m sure Kitty’s roommates can tell you whether she knew any gangsters.”
    “Thanks for the job tip,” Magruder said sourly.
    He scowled and flipped open Kitty’s portfolio, scrutinizing each photo—modeling jobs and studio stills—the sultry poses in evening gowns, then shorts and a straw hat, bathing-suit cheesecake.
    “I hope you interview Mrs. Potter too,” Lily said, flashing to the landlady’s odd demeanor when they’d met, her suggestion that a room might come available. As if she knew.
    Magruder guffawed. “Mrs. Potter and the department go way back, Miss Kessler,” he said. “As for the girls, I’m gonna sic Pico on ’em. He’s got a way with the ladies. They call us Beauty and the Beast, don’t they, Pico?”
    Detective Pico leaned against the windowsill and crossed his lanky legs in a slow and deliberate fashion. A red flush stained his throat, crept up his jawbone. Something told her it was anger, not embarrassment. She felt a strange desire to goad him, to see the two cops come to blows. She smelled spilled beer, peanuts, rubber mats, bloodlust, the roar of the crowd. She blinked and was back in the room.
    “Miss Kessler is too smart to be seduced by the surface of things,” Pico said.
    Car tires squealed out front. Magruder walked to the window.
    “Here come the boys now.” He turned to Pico. “Let’s meet up at the Boulevard substation. And now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve got a murderer to catch.”
    He tipped his hat and slipped out.

    With Magruder’s departure, the room seemed to expand. Lily hadn’t liked the bull-necked detective, found him condescending and full of false heartiness. She disliked Pico for different reasons. His arrogance, cynicism. But mostly, the unnerving sense she’d gotten, back at the station, that he’d instantly disliked her. Still, she was used to law enforcement types and their games. The jaded older one who didn’t take anything seriously and his intense young partner who never lightened up.
    “What did your partner mean by that crack about Mrs. Potter?” Lily asked.
    “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
    Again that tone that suggested he was throwing down a gauntlet. She walked to the window, watched the LAPD men unload metal boxes out of a van. Pico followed her, shadowing her, mimicking her movements. She wished he wouldn’t stand so close.
    “I’m sure Kitty’s roommates will have some names for you to pursue,” Lily said. She wondered how to bring up what she’d overheard in the alley. “Did they mention any boyfriends? Any trouble Kitty might have been in?”
    “We already spoke to the redhead.” Pico checked his notepad. “Roseanne ‘Red’ Viertel. She gave us a coupla leads.”
    “Like what?” Lily was surprised; Red hadn’t told her much of anything.
    With a tight smile, Pico tucked his notepad away. “What’s this, Miss Kessler? Are we playing Twenty Questions?”
    Lily’s cheeks grew hot. She’d slipped unconsciously into the rhythm. You asking questions, them parrying, you rephrasing, the pressure building until finally they broke and something useful emerged.
    But he unsettled her, this long, tall drink of water. And now he was following her around the room, trying to spook her. They learned it in detective school. Well, she knew a few tactics too.
    “Just one question, then.”
    She gave him a tomboy smile that hid more subtle wiles and leaned her ass against the sill. Examined him from downcast lashes.
    Use what you’ve got.
    “Have you talked to Max Vranizan?”
    Behind Pico’s eyes, something clicking into focus. “I thought you only got here yesterday, Miss Kessler. Yet you seem to know an awful lot. What can you tell us about Mr.