Where The Bodies Are Buried - Chapter One Excerpt The phone rang at one in the morning. At least that's what the faintly glowing red digits on my clock radio said. As the phone jangled, I struggled from the tangled embrace of sheets, dislodging my cat Abigail, who was curled up at the hollow of my back. As I groped for the switch on the bedside lamp, my other cat, Black Bart, jumped to the floor, as though to escape the hullabaloo. I picked up the telephone receiver, mercifully cutting the racket in mid-peal. Before I had time to croak out a greeting, I heard my ex-husband's voice. "You got a client named Rob Lawter?" "And good morning to you, too." I squinted at the clock readout and said what generally comes to mind in a situation such as this. "Do you know what time it is?" "Never mind what time it is," Sid growled. "Rob Lawter, male Caucasian, twenty-nine, brown hair, brown eyes. He lived in a fifth floor apartment in a building on Alice Street." I picked up on the past tense right away. You notice words like that, particularly when they're used by a homicide detective. "Yeah, he's a client," I said slowly. "What's going on, Sid?" "Was a client. He's dead. He took a header out his living room window a couple of hours ago. Your business card was in his wallet."   Back to the Novels page   All material on this web site © 2002-08 Janet Dawson. Send E-mail to Janet