Free Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 03 - Money is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page B

sunshine.”
    Percy smiled. “Always, sir, always. Good day.”

 
     
     

     
    On The Run
     
    SEAN AND SARA TOOK A cab over to the address noted in the telephone directory for Robert West. It would take about an hour or so in good traffic, and in the city that equated to a phenomenon.
    Sean had Cindy ’s laptop on his knees and Sara sat next to him in the middle of the back seat.
    “You knew what I was trying to say to you back there when we were with the doorman?” he asked.
    “Loud and clear. There is a lot of secrecy and lies surrounding Cindy’s death. Of course, murder usually lends itself to that.” She partially smiled, but it faded as her eyes went past him to the crowded sidewalks. “I couldn’t live like this every day.”
    Sean followed the direction of her gaze. “Me either. It’s surprising more don’t drop of a heart attack.”
    “Moving at such a fast pace all the time, it is a miracle.”
    “We’re here.” The cabbie glanced in the rearview and requested the fare.
    Sean looked down at the money he had ready, which wasn’t near enough to cover it, and then pulled out the remainder and paid the fee. “Thank you.”
    “Yep. Welcome to New York City, although, I’m not sure why you’d want to come to this neighborhood. Especially looking like that.” He spun in his seat to look at Sara. He smiled like a wolf that was ready to tear into the flesh of its game.
    “We’ll be just fine.” Sean got out and extended his hand for Sara. “Darling?”
    He ran his hands down his suit pants and she straightened her skirt.
    “I feel like I’ve been squeezed in a panini press,” she said. “One hour in the back seat of a cab is too much for me.”
    Sean laughed and put his arm around her. “Well, you look like one delicious sandwich.”
    She fluttered her lashes. “Sean.”
    He tapped his lips to her forehead and then kissed her lips.
    “Whooeee!” Whistles and catcalls filled the air.
    She pulled back, laughing. “Maybe it’s a good idea we get inside.”
    “I think so.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the front door.
    There was no doorman or reception desk, only musty carpeting, stained with traffic from slushy footwear, leading to a double elevator bank.
    “His apartment is seven twenty.” Sara pressed the button for the seventh floor. “I hate to say it, but even the elevator smells funny.” She laughed, her nose wrinkling up just the way he loved it.
    The cart chimed a dead, sick sort of ding that sounded more like dong , when they reached their floor.
    They stopped in the opening.
    “You heard it too?” Sean asked, looking over at Sara.
    “A gunshot.”
    “Yeah.” He tucked his head out into the hallway and got a feel for the direction of the numbers. “It could be coming from Robert’s apartment.”
    He started into a slow jog, Sara behind him.
    Another report filled the air. He slowed his pace and put his arm out for Sara. “I want you to hang back.”
    “What? While you have all the fun? I can handle this.”
    The way her eyes pried into his, it delivered the message. He was overreacting and being overprotective. He conceded. “All right, but stay behind me.”
    She nodded, but there was a spark in her brown eyes, maybe the way the hall lighting refracted off the specks of green—he wasn ’t sure if he trusted her nod of agreement. She was, after all, bred a cop, just like him. They were both taught to run toward gunfire, not flee from it.
    The apartment door opened and a masked man came out. He paused when he saw them and then took off running in the opposite direction.
    Sean bolted after him. “Stop!”
    The guy looked over his shoulder and nearly tripped on a bunched up section of carpeting. Arms flailing, he caught his balance, righting himself and avoiding a fall.
    “Get back here.”
    Adrenaline churned his stomach, and only served to propel him forward harder. His earlobes were on fire and the burning heat spread