Free Dead Ringers 1: Illusion by Darlene Gardner Page A

on my top ten list of things to do today. “I don’t think—”
    “Not at all,” Max interrupts. “Fire away.”
    The reporter flips open his notebook and takes a pen from his shirt pocket. “First tell me what happened.”
    Max gives a semi-detailed account of how we found the Black Widow, sounding smooth and confident, like he’s used to talking to the press.
    “Did you know the dead woman was Constance Hightower?” Bigelow asks.
    “I recognized her from photos in the media.” It’s the first question I’ve answered.
    “Did either of you notice anyone else in the vicinity?”
    I shake my head.
    “No one,” Max confirms.
    After two or three more questions, including how we spell our names, Bigelow says, “That’ll about do it. Unless there’s anything else you can add.”
    I’m ready to part ways, but Max takes a step closer to the reporter and lowers his voice. “Actually, there is.”
    There is?
    “But in return I want to know what you know,” Max says. “For starters, who was the last person to see Constance Hightower alive?”
    The reporter lets out a laugh. “Are you really holding information hostage?”
    “I really am. I’m sure you’re familiar with exchanging information.” Max sounds completely in command of the situation, like he knows exactly what can make a journalist salivate.
    “Okay, I’ll bite. Her sister was staying with Constance at the manse. She’s pretty shaken up. Said Constance went for a walk on the beach a couple days ago and never came back.”
    “Did Constance leave a suicide note?” Max asks.
    “Yeah. Said death trumped prison. It’s consistent with what the sister said about Constance showering four or five times a day to get rid of the stink of jail.”
    “Who benefits from her death?” Max sounds like he’s the reporter instead of Bigelow. “Her sister?”
    Bigelow scratches his chin. “Why do you want to know all this?”
    “We found her,” Max says. “We’re part of the story now.”
    Max’s answer should make sense but it rings false. I’m curious about the details, too, but not in the same intense way as Max.
    “Fair enough. Except I can’t answer your question. Constance wasn’t charged with her husband’s death until after she inherited. His children managed to freeze the assets but by then she could have stashed money anywhere. With her dead, it’ll probably take the courts years to sort things out.”
    “Because she was never convicted,” Max finishes.
    “Bingo. Your turn. What you got for me?”
    “A couple questions.”
    Bigelow’s eyebrows lift like the Golden Arches.
    “The police didn’t let you near the body, right?”
    “Right. They had the area partitioned off.”
    “So you didn’t ask why there wasn’t any blood on the scene?”
    Neither had I. And, unlike Bigelow, I’d been gaping down at the body.
    “Well, I’ll be damned.” The reporter points a finger at Max and says, “Thanks a lot.”
    Bigelow hustles away, taking the steps to the police station two at a time. As soon as he’s gone, I circle around Max to stand in front of him. “Why didn’t you point out the no-blood thing to me last night?”
    “You had enough to deal with last night.”
    I don’t need him protecting me, but there are more pressing issues on my mind. “So you think someone killed the Black Widow and moved her body?”
    “Either that or she killed herself and someone moved the body.” He looks more serious than at any time since I’ve met him.
    “Did you tell the police?”
    “I’m sure they figured it out.” He starts walking down the sidewalk.
    I catch up to him and match my shorter strides to his longer ones. “How did you know to hold back information so that reporter would spill?”
    “Common sense.”
    It seems like there was more to it than that, like he had experience dealing with the media. “But why did you do it? Why did you want to know the details?”
    “Didn’t you?”
    His two-word answers aren’t doing