Read Thin Ice for Free Online

I’ve got my own case now.”
    â€œSounds like your first week turned out to be immersion by fire.”
    â€œYou have no idea how accurate that is.”
    â€œYou can tell me all about it at breakfast. Go get ready.”
    He held up his bagel. “I’m already eating.”
    Mac gave the lump of dough a disparaging once-over. “You call that breakfast? Buddy, I’m taking you to the best pancake place in town.”
    That did sound better than a bagel—or one of the fast-food drive-throughs that had become part of his morning routine since arriving in St. Louis.
    â€œThey have great eggs and bacon too.” Mac propped a shoulder against the wall and grinned. “Not to mention huge cinnamon rolls.”
    His weakness—as his older brother very well knew.
    â€œSold. Give me five.”
    â€œTake your time. I’ll get a cup of that coffee I smell and amuse myself.” Mac pushed off from the wall and strolled through the bare living room. “Nice décor.”
    â€œHey! Cut me some slack. I just got here.”
    â€œSo had I when you critiqued my place on your first visit—but at least I had a couch and a lamp.”
    â€œNone of my stuff was worth moving except for the bed, and I haven’t gotten around to shopping for furniture yet. You think Lisa might help me out with that?”
    â€œMy fiancée is busy planning our wedding, being a police chief, and keeping me company.”
    â€œFine. I’ll handle it.”
    â€œBut she might work in a quick shopping trip if I mention the situation is desperate.” Mac stopped and gave the room another perusal. “Which it is.”
    â€œTell her I’ll buy her lunch.”
    â€œMake it the Woman’s Exchange, and you’ll have a deal.”
    â€œThat sounds like one of those froufrou place for ladies who lunch.”
    â€œWhat can I say? She loves their chopped salad.”
    Chopped salad.
    Sheesh.
    Still . . . He surveyed the empty room. Lisa had done a great job with her own house. It was comfortable and homey without being fussy.
    â€œFine. I’ll take her there.” He’d just have to stop somewhere for a burger afterward.
    â€œI’ll tell her to expect your call.” Mac continued toward the kitchen. Paused again. “Is that ‘Clair de Lune’?”
    Lance frowned. “Who?”
    â€œNot who. What. A piece of music by Debussy.”
    He tried to place the name.
    â€œThe famous classical composer?” Mac offered the prompt in a wry tone.
    Oh yeah. He’d heard of that guy. And it made sense. Classical stuff was popular in figure skating . . .
    Figure skating!
    He lunged toward the kitchen, trying to overtake Mac.
    Too late.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding me.” His brother came to a dead stop in front of the computer as Christy executed some whirling dervish kind of spin. “You’re watching figure skating?” Mac sent him an incredulous look.
    He leaned over to close the window. “It’s research for the case I mentioned on Wednesday that deep-sixed our dinner.”
    Mac studied him. “Seriously?”
    â€œYou don’t think I watch figure skating for fun, do you?”
    The oldest McGregor sibling strolled over to a cabinet and pulled out the single clean mug. “Why not? Lisa enjoys it, and I’ve watched a few competitions with her. What’s not to like? Skaters are great athletes—and the women’s costumes are very . . . captivating.”
    No kidding.
    â€œSo does this case you’re working on have any similarities to that Nancy Kerrigan situation back in the nineties?” Mac poured himself some coffee.
    He ran the name through his mental index. It sounded sort of familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
    â€œWho’s Nancy Kerrigan?”
    â€œA top US skater who was assaulted by one of her rivals’cohorts a few weeks before the Olympics. The