Free MASS MURDER by LYNN BOHART

around the corner from here.” She gestured and then drew her fingers across the soft fibers of the sweater just above he r bosom.
    “Where do you park your car?”
    The question caught her off guard and the fingers froze somewhere around her cleavage.
    “In the west lot.”
    “Did you see anyone outside when you left?”
    She hesitated again.
    “Just what are you implying?” The game was over , and Ms. Peters didn’t like losing. Giorgio rose.
    “I just need to know if anyone can verify what time you left.”
    She got up, the alluring green eyes now ablaze.
    “I’m not sure what you’re up to, D etective, but I don’t like it.”
    “I hope you’re not going out of town soon. We may need to talk with you again.”
    She brushed past him and left the room, leaving a vapor trail of animosity behind. The moment the door closed, Giorgio turned to the settee and ran his hand around the seat cushion. When his fingers hit something sharp , he withdrew a large, pearl stud earring.

Chapter Nine
     
    By two-thirty that morning, Giorgio had to blink several times to read the hands on his watch. It was normal to be tired on the last night of a production. After all, six long weeks of rehearsals and three weeks of perf orman ces were exhausting. Add to that the long workdays, a wife and two kids, and now a murder investigation , and he was running on empty.
    Swan was in the lobby talking with McCready, who was putting information into his Blackberry. McCready would begin a background check on everyone first thing in the morning. Swan acknowledged Giorgio as he approached.
    “I just got a call from Samson. He’s over at Tomlinson’s apartment. She’s not there. The neighbors said her father died , and she flew home to Atlanta. Apparently that’s why Mallery Olsen stood in for her. We’re working on a phone number in Atlanta.”
    Giorgio rubbed his eyes making them tear up. “Where’s Rocky?”
    “He’s interviewing one of the monks. We’re trying to get as many done tonight as possible. By the way, there’s a helluva storm brewing.”
    “Okay,” Giorgio replied, wiping away the moisture, “we’ll get out of here soon.” He checked his notes. “See if you can find Fathers Frances, Julio , and Daniel. They’re the newest recruits. I want to talk with them tonight, but not together.”
    “I think I just met Father Daniel. He was in the chapel, praying. I’ll send him out and then find the others.”
    Giorgio stopped Swan as he turned to leave. “Where do I get more coffee?”
    “I’ll get it,” McCready offered. He replaced the stylus on the Blackberry and turned towards the kitchen.
    Swan retreated down the corridor towards the chapel. Giorgio decided he needed more air and stepped outside . A burly wind now whipped the graceful neck of a Bird of Paradise along the walkway, making it look like a hen pecking for crumbs. He wandered down the brick path, past a clump of billowing Pampas grass , to the drive. The valley lights, which had burned so brightly only hours before, had been replaced by pregnant clouds threatening to deliver their load at any moment. Even the palm trees that lined the drive had become a row of dancing men swaying in rhythm to the wind.
    Giorgio stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath, hoping the cool air would revive him. He stopped on the far side of the marble foun tain . All three fluted tiers of the basin’s edges were lit by underwater spotlights. A single water jet erupted from the top tier like a flower opening to the sun. The floor of the lower basin was inlaid with colorful tile depicting richly plumed birds perched in the midst of a garden of bold flowers. The clear water splashed and gurgled above them, reminding Giorgio of a time when he was twelve and his father had taken his sons to the zoo. While his dad stood in line for hotdogs, the boys ran to a nearby fountain with the intention of getting each other wet. Floating in the leaf-strewn water was a