Free Mostly Murder by Linda Ladd Page A

how?”
    â€œBecause he’s got way too much to lose to be stalkin’ some woman like her, especially if she’s a hooker. He’s a celebrity in this town, and he’s still making a ton of money as a sports agent.”
    â€œRich people drink. Rich people snort coke. Rich people go crazy sometimes and do stupid things. Is he into voodoo? That might be a clue we could take to the bank. Ever heard anything about that?”
    Zee shrugged. “Never heard it mentioned. I highly doubt it. He’s a jock and likes the women. He doesn’t need voodoo.”
    Rene said, “My crew just pulled up. I’m bringing them in and then you’re in charge, Claire. That okay by you?”
    â€œFine. Let’s make sure this entire apartment is filmed and dusted, everything catalogued. If Jack Holliday was in this house, I want to be able to prove it. If he’s not the one who drank out of that hurricane glass, I’d like to know who did.”
    â€œThat still doesn’t mean he offed her,” Zee pointed out. “They could’ve just been friends. That’s more likely.”
    â€œMaybe you ought to try to be a little bit more objective, Zee.”
    â€œI am objective. I just don’t think he did it.”
    â€œWell, we’ll know soon enough if he’s been here.”
    As the crime scene techs filed in, it didn’t take them long to get down to work. Claire snooped around a bit more. Especially inside the Jack Holliday voodoo shrine or whatever the hell it was. She found several small bottles with hearts and flowers on the homemade labels. Love potions, she’d bet her weapons on it. She opened a drawer and found a couple of voodoo dolls similar to the one found at the crime scene. Jack Holliday’s face was on one of them but not impaled with pins. Another looked to be the tiny effigy of a female with a straight pin stuck into each eye. Jeez. But it wasn’t her this time, thank goodness. There was a small jewelry box inside as well, and Claire lifted the lid with one gloved finger. Expecting to find bling or sacred voodoo pins, she was surprised to find a small pink book. “Maybe Madonna did keep an appointment book, after all, Zee.”
    Flipping through the pages, she found what appeared to be Jack Holliday’s private cell phone number with a heart drawn around it in red ink. Plenty other male names were listed, too—her clients, no doubt—and believe it or not, each was rated with a star system. Holliday’s stars covered the entire page, but most of the regular guys just rated two or three. That poor girl was delusional or just big-time messed up in the head.
    The only problem—and a big one, at that—was there were no last names. The numbers would probably be enough unless they were throwaway phones, and that meant lots of time and legwork. Holliday, on the other hand, would be the easiest to find, and the most important to nail down at the moment.
    Rene took the book from Claire and thumbed through it. “You wanna couple of my detectives to run down these names for you?”
    â€œYeah, that would be helpful. Zee and I will handle Holliday.”
    â€œMy guys’ll canvass this neighborhood, too, maybe turn up something for you.”
    â€œThanks, that’ll save us time.”
    â€œWhy don’t you and Zee stick around and have dinner with me? Give us time to talk about old times.”
    That was the last thing Claire wanted to do, but she played nice. Rene had been very accommodating, today and in the past. “No, we’ve gotta head back for the autopsy, but we appreciate the invite. This Jack Holliday guy, he’s a big deal around here, right?”
    Rene nodded. “Pretty much. He played at Tulane, got a lot of media back then.”
    â€œThen I need to interview him, but I want to do it on the QT. No reporters sniffing around, no publicity. Can you arrange that without tipping him off