Murder For Love

"We met in January at Joh

"How did you manage crossing over to her side of the building without being seen by the doormen or the concierge?"

"I'd take the elevator to the basement and cross over to the north-side elevators."

"No one ever saw you riding up and down?"

"No. Half the tenants in this building have other homes."

"When did you last see Mary A

"Saturday. I left my apartment at one. I had an appointment in Philadelphia last night. I left Mary A

"How did you get to Philadelphia?"

"Amtrak."

"What hotel did you stay at?"

"The Winston."

"Didn't any of the doormen or the concierge tell you what had happened when you came home?"

"They didn't see me. I entered through the garage and came right here."

"Were you going to produce Mary A

"I'm not in the movie business. I showed her story to a producer friend of mine and he was interested." His eyes narrowed. "How did you know I was seeing Mary A

"I read her e-mail."

"I told her to use a password but she didn't think she needed it because she lived alone."

"Can I assume that you have a password for your e-mail?"

"Of course I do."

"Did your wife know it?"

No. Adele and I respected each other's privacy." His eyes focused on the bloodstains on the living room rug. "Who found them?"

"Mary A

"Her stepmother," he blurted. "They couldn't stand each other."

"I got the impression that they were close to each other."

"Just the opposite. Mary A

"Mr. Harrison, I need to go with you to your apartment."

"Why?"

"Do you have an answering machine on your phone?"

"Yes."

"I need to listen to it."

"My wife hated guns. I don't think she ever held one in her hand. Detective, Adele was a religious woman. She would never kill another human being, and she certainly would never kill herself."

"I know."

"May I come in?" Parker asked forty minutes later, his hard eyes fixed on Elizabeth Gardner's face. She stepped aside. He walked into her fourteenth-floor Park Avenue apartment, his eyes sweeping the large living room. He turned to face her. A nervous twitch invaded her right eyelid. He said: "Women never commit suicide by blowing out their brains, they just don't."

Her mouth fell open.

"Adele Harrison recorded your conversation on her answering machine. It's all there, you telling her about the affair, suggesting that you come to her apartment to discuss it. You weren't sure what you were going to do, were you? All you knew for sure was that Mary A

"You can't prove any of that."

"I'm getting a warrant to take your clothes to the lab. Our forensics people are going to find particles of gunpowder that match the powder tattooing on Adele Harrison's temple. That and the tape will convict you."

The color drained from her face.

"Why, Elizabeth?"

"Money. I stood to inherit if Mary A

"How did you find out about the affair?"

"I dropped by Mary A

"You'll probably spend the rest of your life in prison."

She got up slowly and darted out onto the terrace. He ran after her. She threw herself over the railing. He leapt to grab her, but she was gone. Watching her silent plunge to the street, he thought of the two murdered women and realized that everyone has their own dying time.

For Whom The Beep Tolls by CAROL HIGGINS CLARK

If only the answering machine hadn't stopped working…

Ellie Butternut pushed open the door of her apartment with a sigh of relief and then slammed it shut behind her. The sight of her small but cozy apartment on the ground floor of an old two-story building in West Hollywood always eased the tension that had been building up all day. She plopped on her couch, pulled off her shoes, and stretched her aching feet out onto the ancient coffee table as her cat, Twister, jumped up to join her.

Ellie had been ru

That's show biz, Ellie thought as she glanced out her window, which was flanked by overgrown bushes. It's a tropical look, she decided. Raising her eyes, she gazed up at the Hollywood Hills in the distance beyond Sunset Boulevard and her local 7-Eleven. Everyone out here is chasing some sort of dream. Or has a screenplay. Including me, she thought, as she stared at a mansion way up yonder that from her vantage point was no bigger than a speck. Someday I'd like to have that speck, she thought. Or at least live in its neighborhood.

Wiggling the toes of her swollen feet, she picked up the remote control and flicked on the television.

"Oh, God," she murmured as she watched the face of her biggest rival, Lucy Farnsworth, playing the part of a harried housewife complaining about her husband's dirty socks on a commercial for Force, the latest sensational laundry detergent. "If it weren't for you, that would be my face peering into that washing machine," Ellie said aloud.

Ellie had been on first refusal, which meant that she couldn't accept another job doing a laundry-detergent commercial without first alerting the folks from Force, but she had ultimately been released from her obligation. She had already been pla