Read Easy Prey for Free Online Page B

tried “Aliee,” without the apostrophe between the e ’s, and found only one new letter, about a dress.
    He quickly typed in “Sandy Lansing” and found only one letter, in which Lansing was mentioned only in passing. He tried “Sandy” alone, and “Lansing” alone, and found only the one letter. He switched back to the Sent folder, and repeated himself. He found nine references to Alie’e and none to Lansing; one letter from Hanson confided to a woman named Ardis—there was no last name—that Alie’e was definitely having an affair with somebody named Jael, and that somebody else, an Amnon, was wildly jealous.
    I think Amnon would kill Jael, if she said just the right thing to him. . . .
    Lucas sent the letter to the printer, and noted the e-mail address on it.
     
 
SALLANCE HANSON WAS sitting on her couch, wrapped in a black dress, a black hat beside her, when Lucas wandered into the room. Swanson, who’d been sitting in an easy chair, facing her, stood up and said, “Miz Hanson, this is Deputy Chief Davenport.”
    Hanson turned on the couch and extended her hand without getting up. She was a pretty blond woman in her forties, with a tight, willful mouth and tough blue eyes. She’d used black eyeliner under her eyes, and just touched her eyelids with a gray tone; the combination gave her a played-out, dying-puppy look. “When do we go downtown?”
    “I beg your pardon?” Lucas asked.
    “To make my statement?”
    “Oh, yeah. Detective Swanson will make the arrangements. Actually, we can probably take it right here. . . . But I want to talk to you about another matter.”
    “Have you found that street person? I identified him,” Hanson said.
    “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
    Her eyebrows rose. “You found him? Nobody notified me. Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
    Swanson said, “Um, you’re more of a . . . witness or bystander . . . than anything else, Miz Hanson. You’re not really part of the investigation.”
    “That’s not the way I see it,” she snapped.
    “That’s the way it is,” Lucas said.
    “I could talk to the mayor, and he might inform you differently,” she said. “The mayor’s a friend of mine.”
    “He’s a friend of mine, too,” Lucas said. “He appointed me to my job. He’d tell you the same thing we’re telling you. You’re not part of the investigation. You’re being investigated.”
    “What?”
    “Two murders were committed in your house, Miz Hanson. You were on the scene when the killings took place. We know nothing about you or your relationship with the dead women.” He smiled at her, softening it up. “No politician, the mayor included, would go on the record defending somebody who might later be charged with murdering Alie’e Maison. I’m sure you can see that.”
    She said, “Oh,” tipped her head from side to side, thinking about it, bounced once on the couch, brightened, and said, “That’s not bad—being a suspect. But I didn’t do it. Either one. That street person . . . is he in jail, or are you bringing him here, or what?”
    Lucas felt awkward looking down at her; he took a step away and settled into a leather easy chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “The street person’s name is Del Capslock,” he said. “He’s an undercover police officer. One of our best undercover people.”
    “Uh-oh,” she said, looking from Lucas to Swanson. “This could cause you problems.” Then she frowned. “What was he doing at my party, anyway?”
    “That’s the other thing,” Lucas said. “Del was . . . researching drugs. Miz Maison showed signs of heroin use. She had needle marks on her arm.”
    “No.” Hanson registered shock—something she was good at, Lucas thought. One hand went artfully to her face. “She was using drugs ?”
    A cop stepped into the room, said, “TV’s here. They all got here in a bunch.”
    Lucas nodded, said, “Okay, keep them back.” Then, to Hanson: “Miz Hanson, everybody