Death hits the fan Read Online Free Page A

probably only have a few minutes . .."
    We had less than that. Yvette was in the middle of ordering us all to tell her exactly what we'd seen, when a wave of cold, wet air crashed through the doorway of the bookstore, carrying with it a uniformed man, a uniformed woman, and a load of medical equipment. The paramedics had arrived.
    An agony of efficient activity later and the paramedics had reached the same conclusion as Lou Cassell had. The same as Dean Frazier. The same as Phyllis Oberman. Shayla, S.X. Greenfree, was irretrievably, irrevocably dead.
    "Who owns the store?" one of the paramedics asked.

    Ivan raised his hand, hesitantly. I didn't blame him for the hesitation. I shivered in spite of myself.
    "Scree, police procedural, last row," PMP offered helpfully. "Oh, shut up."
    Maybe Ivan could claim the parrot owned the store.
    But the paramedic only glanced at PMP and then her eyes were back on Ivan.
    "Police been called?" she asked sternly.
    Ivan nodded.
    Dean turned his head away and moaned. Mr. Quadrini was not as quiet about his feelings, however.
    "Why are you asking about the police?" he demanded. "What is it that you're not saying?"
    The paramedic put up her hand, but Mr. Quadrini wasn't as easy to ignore as PMP.
    "Was it the bracelet? What. .."
    I opened my mouth to ask Ivan more about Mr. Quadrini. But he was way ahead of me.
    "Vince Quadrini, Shayla's super-fan," Ivan whispered my way, shielding his mouth with his hand again. "Bought all of her books. Came to all—"
    And then suddenly, a figure came flying out from behind the bookshelves, running toward the door, red hair streaming behind her. The young woman who'd been lurking. I'd forgotten all about her. I'd have bet we all had. Until now.
    "Not so fuddin' fast!" Yvette shouted and ran to block the redhead's trajectory.
    Yvette blocked her all right. The hard way. The two women went down in a heap and then I saw legs kicking. Long legs in knee-high boots and shorter legs in Reeboks. Lou was there a moment later, pulling the younger woman up off the floor by the collar of her flannel shirt. The redheaded woman couldn't have been too many years over

    twenty. And she was clearly frightened, her oval eyes wide and off center in her freckled face. Frantic.
    The two paramedics moved toward the trio cautiously.
    "No, no," the young woman whimpered. "I gotta leave now."
    "Why, are you our murderer?" Yvette demanded calmly, on her feet now. Her tinted glasses were askew, but her tiny hands were firmly in place on her miniature hips. She peered up into the younger woman's face. "Go ahead, tell me why you killed her."
    "Me?" the woman said. Her full lips fell open for a moment; then she gulped as if swallowing the enormity of the accusation. "Me? No way! She was my hero. I read everything she wrote." She rubbed her flanneled arms convulsively.
    "Who?" I asked Ivan urgently.
    "Don't know her name," he whispered back, urgency in his tone, too. "But she's always in the store. I think my son, Neil, knows her." He brought his hand up to his temple. "No, I do know her name. It's Winona, Winona Eads—"
    And then another wave of cold air poured through the door. This one brought the police. At least I assumed they were the police. A woman and a man in uniforms different from those of the paramedics, and another man in a well-made gray wool suit. A man who was smiling widely.
    Ivan sighed and made his way to the smiling man in the gray suit while the uniformed officers glared at the rest of us, then shook the smiling man's hand before leading him back behind the sales counter where they whispered in frus-tratingly low tones.
    "I understand," PMP sighed. "Of course."
    "It was murder, you know," Yvette announced loudly.
    The smile didn't waver as the gray-suited newcomer turned toward Yvette.

    "And you are?" he inquired, his voice warm and obliging. Friendly even.
    Was it murder? I surveyed our group, wondering what this man saw to smile about. The two paramedics who remained