Lie Catchers Read Online Free

at Liv, drawn by the jewelry sparkling on her ears, her neck, and arm. Bare arms, bare legs. Looking tanned.
    He glanced at Ivor and saw the resemblance. Like his sister, Ivor was a towhead with a warm, light brown complexion and blue eyes. Late thirties for Ivor; his sister, younger. He was tall, broad-shouldered and maybe six two; Liv was tall, too, around five eight, slim and delicate-looking compared to her beefy brother.
    Ivor held up his bottle. “Another beer? I’m surprised Barber’s so late.”
    “Sure. I’ll get this round.”
    Hanson was signaling the bartender when movement at the doorway caught their attention. “Speak of the devil; Barber’s arrived. He’s the guy in the Mariner’s ball cap.”
    Parker focused on the tall man entering Lito’s Landing, smiling and cocksure as he greeted people right and left, bussing women on the cheek and fist-bumping men. Tuck Barber, thirty-five; a muscular six feet, three inches of confidence. Owner of Lito’s Landing and friend of the now-deceased Everett Olson.
    As if to dramatize Barber’s entrance, the song ended.
    “He’s aware I want to talk to him?” Parker asked, lowering his voice in the sudden quiet.
    The chief chewed on his lip. “He’s got something else on his mind first.”
    The man strolled to the middle of the dance floor, the dancers watching his every move. Then like a parting of the sea, they crabbed sideways to clear a path for Barber.
    Liv emerged from the group, lifted her index finger and beckoned to Barber. When he moved into her arms, the DJ yelled, “It’s a slow one, folks…the lovely Nora Jones.” With the first strains of a ballad, the dancers coupled and filled the floor, hiding Barber and Liv from Parker’s sight.
    “Oh.”
    “Yeah,” Hanson said. “Thought you should have a first-hand look atour complication. Tuck Barber’s a popular, well-to do townie, my sister’s neighbor, and…” Hanson viewed the clutched couples, frowning, “they’re close.”
    ****
    Liv Hanson rested her head against Tuck’s shoulder, content with the slow pace in the arms of the best dancer in Petersburg.
    “Sorry I’m late,” he said, his lips touching her ear, his hand firm against her back.
    She relished their chest-to-thigh connection and a seamless synchrony as they whirled around the floor. Were her feet touching the floor? She smiled her joy next to his chin. “The night is but a pup. We’ll—”
    “Can’t.”
    “What?” Liv asked, raising her head.
    “Blame your brother,” he said, casting a stern look Ivor’s way, before they circled to the DJ stand.
    “What’s up?”
    “He’s got a bloody Seattle cop with him. They want to talk to me.”
    “Detective Browne. He came to my store.”
    Tuck shrugged. “Ivor’s probably pissed I’m making him wait for me, but I thought you deserved one dance, at least.”
    “Nice of you.”
    Tuck gripped her hand and pressed his palm on her back, whipping her into a turn. She gasped in surprise, but managed to follow his move. What in the world is going on?
    “Sorry.” He eased the pressure on her back. “Your brother is a royal pain.”
    “Ivor’s a professional, Tuck. Conscientious. Good for Petersburg. He’s got to help the cop solve this case.” She glanced at Parker Browne, noting his open expression, a contrast to her brother’s sternness. Ivor didn’t like Tuck and he disapproved of her antics on the dance floor, but something else deepened his sour expression. Was Tuck a serious suspect in Ev’s death?
    “Maybe I could help. Want me to join you?” She added a coy smile. “Protect you?”
    He frowned. “Hell, no. Why would I do that?”
    “Never mind,” she said, hiding her disappointment. “We’ll stick to dancing.”
    “Not my choice, babe. You set the boundaries.” He cupped her ass. “Say the word and we’ll two-step to my place. Or yours.”
    She pushed his hand away, worried the gesture would upset her brother and tip off other couples they