Read One O'Clock Hustle: An Inspector Rebecca Mayfield Mystery (Rebecca Mayfield Mysteries Book 1) for Free Online

when she poured Tabasco on her eggs, but other than that, they ate in relative peace. They had just finished when they heard a knock on the door.
    Richie's eyes went wide then narrowed and he headed towards the shoulder bag with her Glock inside. She stood her ground, tugging on the handcuffs and refusing to let him get close to it.
    He frowned, but walked with her to the door. “Get rid of whoever it is,” he ordered. As she opened the door just a little way, he stood behind it.
    As she had expected, her landlord, Bradley Frick, had knocked. He stood before her with a big smile. Over the years, they had become good friends. He would come down the back stairs to her place, or she'd run up to his, and they often had long heart-to-hearts over coffee or wine, depending on the hour and if Rebecca was on-call or not.
    “Rebecca, sweetie, I wanted to be sure you're okay.” He wore tight, nearly white jeans, a floral shirt and sandals without socks even though the temperature was chilly. His bleached blond hair spiked around his head, and he had no sideburns while his eyebrows remained dark. His teeth were perfectly capped. “I heard about a murder at a nightclub last night, and since you were on-call, I wondered what happened. The news is so bad in this town! Spike! Come give us a kiss!” He expected her to let him into the house as he bent towards the dog. Instead Rebecca moved her foot so Spike could run to Bradley.
    He picked up the dog and cuddled him.
    “The case is nearly solved already,” she said, feeling awkward about the way she blocked the door. She always invited Bradley in. “There's nothing to worry about, but could you do me a favor and keep Spike with you today? I know I'm going to be working crazy hours, and some people might come by to discuss the case and I don't want him underfoot.”
    “They're coming here?” His eyes opened wide. “You mean like your detective friends and all? To talk about murder?”
    “Yes. In fact—ouch!”
    He jumped nearly ten feet in the air. “What is it?”
    “Nothing. Don't worry about it. Good-bye. And thanks, Bradley.”
    She shut the door and kicked Richie. “That's for trying to break my thumb! What's the matter with you?”
    He rubbed his shin. “Whatever it takes, Inspector. You were too chatty all of a sudden.”
    “Believe me, you're safe from Bradley.”
    Richie grinned. “That's a relief. I was so, so scared.”
    “You're not funny, Amalfi!”
    Another knock sounded on the door.
    “Don't tell me the idiot's come back,” Richie said. “Get rid of him this time!”
    Glaring at him, she pulled the door open.
    And gasped.
    One of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life stood in the doorway. About six-foot-three, with wavy blond hair, blue eyes and a deep tan, he had high, pronounced cheekbones and as aristocratic a nose as she could imagine. He wore a brown and gray tweed jacket, brown slacks, a white shirt, and a plaid wool neck scarf. “Inspector Mayfield?” he asked politely. Even his voice was magnificent.
    She could only gape a moment, then her mouth shut as she wondered how he'd gotten through the locked door to the breezeway ... unless Bradley had let him in. If so, the landlord would be back soon demanding a proper introduction.
    “Who—” she began when Richie pulled the door out of her hand and opened it wide.
    “Shay, get in here.”
    That's Shay?
    “Where's Vito?” Richie asked.
    “Right behind me. He's checking the place out.” Shay noticed the handcuffs. Eyes eerily like dry ice traveled over Rebecca from her barely brushed hair to her slept-in outfit. One eyebrow lifted. Who was this guy? she wondered.
    Shay glanced back over his shoulder and nodded, then entered the apartment. Following him came the exact type man Rebecca expected to find hanging around Richie Amalfi—a stereotypical wise guy's bodyguard. Vito was sturdy and squat, firmly earthbound, with a cone-shaped head, a fleshy nose, and rolls of fat under his