“Doesn’t it count that Mike was sitting on Tony when Batano got there?”
“Of course it does.” A smile lifted Rossi’s lips. “Sitting on the killer and trying to get his cell phone out of his pocket at the same time. He never did get to the phone. I guess he isn’t a multitasker.”
“No wonder. His pants are so tight I don’t know how he ever squeezes in a phone.”
“Oh?” Rossi arched a brow. “You’ve noticed.”
“To steal your line, I’m in love, I’m not dead.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “Thank God.”
“There’s also that wallet I found. And the missing button.”
“Sorry to be a spoiler, Deva, but as evidence, the button’s of questionable value.”
“Why questionable? I’m sure it came off Tony’s cargo shorts.”
“Probably, but no telling whether he lost it the day Mrs. Hawkins was killed or earlier. He and Hammerjack were working on the property for several days. Still I suspect the prosecution will point it out to the jury. More important is the way Tony bashed in the window of your old car. Uncontrolled anger like that is lethal when you’re fighting a murder rap.”
The setting sun finally completed its descent and disappeared below the horizon. A faint orange afterglow lingered in the sky. Then that too faded and we were left sitting in our car in the dark like a couple of teenaged lovers. Rossi, a firm believer in carpe diem, seized me in a searing kiss. Then his lips blazed a trail along my neck. When he reached my earlobe, I said, “Will you stop nibbling for a moment and tell me something?”
“Umm.”
“The day my call came in? Why were you on your way to Whiskey Lane?”
“Okay,” he said with a groan. “I guess you won’t be at peace until all your questions are answered.”
“Correct.”
“Remember the handwritten statements I took the morning Kay Hawkins died? The graphologist in Miami targeted Tony.”
I sat up straight, my fatigue forgotten. “Oh, really?” I had examined those samples and hadn’t noticed anything incriminating in Tony’s handwriting. “What did she see?”
“She said the left side of the page represents the past, the right side the future. The normal tendency is to leave a space on the left—as if the writer were pulling away from the past—and to write close to the edge on the right side—as if eager for the future. Tony’s handwriting reversed that normal tendency.”
“Proving?”
“His obsession with the past.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
I slumped against the seat back. “I missed that completely.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You’d have to be a pro to notice such a minor point. As things turned out, it was irrelevant anyway. Thanks to you, we already had his confession. When we showed him that picture of Connie Rae Freitas, he broke down. Blubbered like a baby.”
“I’m glad I helped. For a while there I sure was headed down the wrong road. I thought Stew had something to do with Connie Rae’s death, but all the while he was innocent.”
“Your thinking wasn’t so off base. When a spouse dies unexpectedly, the survivor is often a person of interest.”
“But why did Stew lie like that? If he hadn’t denied knowing about her heart condition, I wouldn’t have suspected a thing.”
“My guess is his priors for domestic violence had him nervous. He was probably afraid he’d be accused of killing her.”
“That makes sense, but to think I also believed James might have killed Kay. Just like Marilyn said, for her money. Courtly, courteous James who adored Kay and loves Charlotte too. Treats her like a queen. I’m glad they’re back together again. He needs his doggie. He needs Eileen too, but he certainly doesn’t need Marilyn. I wonder where she’s off to this time.”
Rossi shrugged. “We’ll leave that up to the Coast Guard.” His hand found my knee. Then my thigh. “Maybe we should get a room.”
“We have a room. An orange, purple and green one.”
“When the lights go out, the colors don’t matter.”
“Ha! I can see them in the dark.”
“I can’t see a thing in the dark. Lucky I have fingers.”
Concentrating on the case wasn’t easy, but I managed to say, “Mike Hammerjack will likely go to prison, right?”
“With his record, I doubt he’ll get off scot-free. He aided and abetted a murderer. He might not have known about the python in time to save Connie Rae, but if he’d told the truth in the first place, Kay might be alive today. On the other hand, he did apprehend Tony and helped you live to tell the tale. No doubt his attorney will plead to the court for leniency.”
“Whatever happens, I’m going ahead with the Help-a-Con Program. It’s a good cause, and the furniture is great for the price. And you know something else? The day he rammed my car with Tony’s truck? I really think he told the truth. It was an accident. Anyway, my knee’s fine now, and I’m more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
In the dark, I couldn’t read Rossi’s expression, but he didn’t protest as he put the car in gear.
I closed my eyes while we drove toward our rental apartment in Pelican Marsh. “I hope Lee and Paulo are enjoying their first night in Surfside. I sent them flowers, and I’ll be happy to design a nursery, but I haven’t done a thing about it yet.”
“Not to worry. You have how long...five more months to plan.”
He was trying to be comforting, and I loved him for it. Lately so much had come rushing at me I hadn’t had time to concentrate on what was most important in life—the people I loved. There was such a thing as being too busy. Starting tomorrow, I intended...without warning, Rossi pulled off Tamiami Trail onto the lighted parking lot of a strip mall.
“What on—”
He switched off the ignition and turned to me. “As soon as the house is finished, I want us to set a wedding date. I was going to save this till then, but the suspense is killing me. I can’t wait any longer.” He leaned across the front seat and reached into the glove compartment. He withdrew a sheet of paper, unfolded it and held it out. “For you. My wedding vows.”
“Really? I haven’t written mine yet, Rossi. I didn’t have ti—”
“Shh. Just read.”
I glanced at the paper he’d placed in my hands. It was covered in big bold handwriting with long, enthusiastic t bars and fabulous, sexy lower loops. I read it all, and then again, as tears formed in my eyes.
To my bride, Devalera Agnes Kennedy Dunne,
I vow to love and honor you. To cherish and protect you.
To adore you body and soul for the rest of our days on earth.
However long that may be, however rocky or smooth our path in life, you are now, and always will be, my beloved partner in crime.
This I swear to you,
Victor Giuseppe Rossi
* * * * *
Help interior designer Deva Dunne solve more
edge-of-your-seat mysteries in Jean Harrington’s
Murders by Design series, available now!
Designed for Death
Interior designer Deva Dunne’s latest project comes to a screeching halt when blood on the carpet leads her to the body of her client, an exotic dancer with a mysterious past. But the murdered woman is not the only resident of the posh beachfront condominium with secrets, and investigating officer Lieutenant Victor Rossi considers them all suspects.
The Monet Murders
Interior decorator Deva Dunne never dreamed she’d see a Monet hanging on someone’s dining room wall. Then she snags a client with two Monet seascapes. Her thrill lasts until she finds one of the paintings missing, cut from its frame, and the cook shot dead...
Deva’s boyfriend, police lieutenant Victor Rossi, has misgivings about her promising job—especially when he accompanies her to one of Francesco’s dinner parties. After Francesco returns a dish to the kitchen untasted, the chauffeur promptly scarfs it down and drops dead from cyanide poisoning.
Rooms to Die For
Interior designer Deva Dunne finds more than fabulous furnishings on her trip to the design mall; she and her client come upon the body of one of Deva’s favorite shop owners, swinging from the atrium railing. It looks like suicide, but Deva feels sure that the purveyor of Florida’s finest antiques would never leap to his death from a tacky blue stool.
Deva’s boyfriend, studly and stoic police lieutenant Victor Rossi, looks into it, but there’s not much to go on. He’s focusing on their future these days, and he wishes Deva would steer clear of danger.
But everyone around Deva seems to be keeping secrets, and she’s getting some strange reactions to the designs she’s doing for a big charity event. When she experiences a mysterious attack, she knows she’s at the center of something huge—and if she doesn’t outwit this killer fast, her only future will be six feet under.
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About the Author
Jean Harrington lives in Naples, Florida, with her husband, John. No cat, no dog, no children anymore. After seventeen years of teaching English literature at Becker College in Worcester, Massachusetts, she now spends her days—and some nights—writing the Murders by Design mystery series for Carina Press. Along with Deva Dunne, her amateur sleuth, Jean is having great fun wallowing knee-deep in fictional dead bodies.
Award-winners Designed for Death and The Monet Murders are the first two books in the series. Killer Kitchens and current release, Rooms to Die For, are Deva Dunne’s latest romps with murder and mayhem.
Help interior designer Deva Dunne solve more edge-of-your-seat mysteries in Jean Harrington’s Murders by Design series, available now!
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ISBN-13: 9781426899232
The Design is Murder
Copyright © 2014 by Jean Harrington
Edited by Deborah Nemeth
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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The Design Is Murder (Murders By Design) Page 24
