Free Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) by Arlene Kay Page A

Who knows when the murderer will strike again?”
    I wasn`t impressed, but I was ready with a cover story. If anything, Sonia overplayed her hand by focusing on herself instead of poor Duff.
    “Listen, Sonia. I`ve been giving this some thought. I have no interest in doing a biography, but true crime might work. If you agree, I`ll focus on Duff’s murder and your devotion to the cause. I think Duff would like that. She was so ardent about lookism.”
    “I guess so. The important thing is the message. I try to shun personal publicity anyway.” After telling that big whopper, Sonia paused. “Can you meet with me today? I`ll be in my office all afternoon preparing for Duff’s memorial service.”
    “Of course,” I said. “I`d like to attend the service too. Pay my respects. My mother-in-law will probably join me.”
    “Fine,” Sonia said absently. “Duff didn`t have any family left. Most of the faculty and my students will likely be there and naturally the members of the Bella Brigade and COWE. Fess—Dr. Paskert—will officiate.”
    “The media will probably be out in force,” I said. “You know how they love scandal. Want me to run them off?”
    That prospect raised Sonia’s antennae. “No, no. I`ll handle the press.” She stripped the glee from her voice and managed a sigh. “It`s my duty to the cause. Duff would want that.”
    “Of course.”
    We arranged a time and place for our session before ringing off.
    Sonia had wasted no time in cozying up to her boss. Now she was calling him “Fess” rather than Dr. Paskert. Apparently Duff’s murder had brought unintended benefits to at least one of her associates. If Lieutenant Keegan was on his game, he would probably pop up at the funeral to scrutinize the mourners. That would be my chance to quiz him about the investigation and Duff’s cause of death. After all, how many normal citizens have access to a tightly controlled substance like cyanide?
    I wondered if Gabriel Mann would be among the mourners. He was in a difficult spot, bound to look insensitive or hypocritical no matter what he did. I visualized the wall of hostility he was sure to encounter. Charity is an overrated virtue. The thought of my arrogant ex fumbling through a funeral delighted me. If only Duff Ryder could be there to share the fun.
    DEMING HAS A sixth sense when it comes to my schemes. He arrived home unannounced shortly before noon on the pretense of taking me to lunch.
    “You must have read my mind,” he said. “Look at you. All dressed and ready to go.”
    Handsome men in business suits turn me on, especially those with the Byronic looks of Deming Swann. I forced myself to power down, shrug, and ignore his flawless form.
    “As it happens, I`m on my way out. Got an appointment this afternoon.”
    He knew something was up, but like the cagey lawyer that he is, Deming played it cool.
    “Should I be jealous?” he asked, kissing my cheek. “Not meeting another man, I trust.”
    “I plead the fifth. Next time call first, and don`t take me for granted.” I pointed to Cato. “Here`s an idea. Take him on a jog around the Common. Much better than eating.”
    Deming changed tactics and went for the kill. He loomed over me, arms folded, in his version of a tough guy act. As a youth he had immersed himself in Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, and the noir experience had permanently scarred him.
    “Come clean,” he growled. “You`re going to see Sonia.”
    “So?”
    He trained stern hazel eyes on me. “I cleared my calendar. I`ll go with you. Come on, I want to be part of this.”
    When he decides to do something, Deming gives stubborn mules a bad name. I made a deft turnabout.
    “Sonia and I are discussing a book. Dull stuff. But your mother could use a lawyer`s help with this scholarship deal. No one would think twice about it either.”
    He brightened immediately. “Good idea. I`ll give Mom a call.” He loped toward his office and stopped short. “Don`t leave without