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    Mistaken Malice: Malice, #3
    Mistaken Malice: Malice, #3
    Mistaken Malice: Malice, #3
    Ebook140 pages3 hours

    Mistaken Malice: Malice, #3

    By K'Anne Meinel

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    About this ebook

    Making mistakes is something Alice DOESN'T do.  Can she deal with the fact that someone might have died in error?  How will she deal with it when someone else makes a fatal mistake?

    Senators Cecelia and Ken Edwards enter into Alice's arena, but are they more interested in her money, her power, or her desirable body?  Pursuing this 'friendship' will create consequences none of them intended...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShadoe Publishing
    Release dateMar 28, 2017
    ISBN9781497352964
    Mistaken Malice: Malice, #3
    Author

    K'Anne Meinel

    K’Anne Meinel è una narratrice prolifica, autrice di best seller e vincitrice di premi. Al suo attivo ha più di un centinaio di libri pubblicati che spaziano dai racconti ai romanzi brevi e di lungo respiro. La scrittrice statunitense K’Anne è nata a Milwaukee in Wisonsin ed è cresciuta nei pressi di Oconomowoc. Diplomatasi in anticipo, ha frequentato un'università privata di Milwaukee e poi si è trasferita in California. Molti dei racconti di K’Anne sono stati elogiati per la loro autenticità, le ambientazioni dettagliate in modo esemplare e per le trame avvincenti. È stata paragonata a Danielle Steel e continua a scrivere storie affascinanti in svariati generi letterari. Per saperne di più visita il sito: www.kannemeinel.com. Continua a seguirla… non si sa mai cosa K’Anne potrebbe inventarsi!

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      Book preview

      Mistaken Malice - K'Anne Meinel

      MISTAKEN MALICE

      Book 3

      If at first you don’t succeed, destroy ALL evidence that you TRIED.

      So, she had killed a cop.  So what?  But Alice knew there could be serious repercussions.  They would review tapes from the parking garage, looking to see who came and went and then would ask questions.  From what she could see, she was certain Richard had chosen a spot that wasn’t visible from the cameras for his own use.  She wondered how long it would take to find his body.

      She walked around her condo like a caged lion.  She didn’t make mistakes often.  She had nothing against Richard personally, but it had been automatic, a self-defense response.  Her buckle was already soaking in bleach, removing any DNA.  The leather had been washed with a leather solution and she was certain it contained no blood since she had wiped it off on his clothing.

      But killing a cop?  This was a new one for Alice.  She couldn’t justify this one as she had the others.  That a cop was on her tail made her wonder.  What else did he know about her?  How long had he been investigating her and why?  Questions like this could drive you mad, she thought.  But that was how Alice’s mind worked; she was analyzing it from every angle.  She knew she had to go to the man’s office and home and see what else he had on her.  She glanced out the patio window, which was still closed with the drapes drawn.  It told her she had several hours before sunset...several hours during which cops would discover the body and search the very places she needed to search.  She couldn’t wait for them to find something she needed to see...some evidence that would link her to his death.

      She got on her computer and looked up what she could find of one Richard Haggard, L.A.P.D.  She was intrigued to find he wasn’t an active police officer.  He had been retired two years ago, with honors.  Apparently, he had been hurt in the line of duty after some heroic deed saving a woman’s life and had been retired ever since.  She wondered why he had still been carrying a badge...did he use it to intimidate people?  Was it for show?  Some guys just couldn’t give up being a cop.  Shit, she had killed a cop!  Even if he was a retired cop, he was still a cop, and the other cops would go nuts over it.  They tended to band together at a time like this, all for one and all that.

      Hello, her cell went off.

      Hi.  My friend in Florida came through.  He found out why it was taking so long to get the results we were waiting for.

      ‘WE were waiting for?’ she thought to herself before she answered, Well?  She wasn’t in the mood for word games.

      Yeah, he was some cop.

      ‘No SHIT!’ she said to herself.

      He went on, But they retired him like two years ago, and now he does private investigations kind of work, but for real high-end security, not that sleazy ‘dick’ work.  He loved using the word ‘dick.’

      Really? she pretended amazement at ‘his’ find, as though he had given her important information.  She didn’t want him tying her in with the apparent murder, which was going to be plastered over all the television stations in L.A. by tomorrow.

      Yeah, once we figured out he was using the wrong database, I helped him piece it together.

      My client will be pleased then, she planted that little tidbit in his psyche.

      There’s more if you’re interested, he offered.  You never knew.  Sometimes she put ‘extra’ into his account for information.  He already had to wire the prick down in Miami a sizeable chunk and soon, but he knew his payment would be in his account by morning after he gave his report to Alice.

      Of course, she coaxed him.  She knew how to handle him.  He was greedy, but he wasn’t stupid.

      "All the information indicates he was honorably retired for helping that woman, but I remember friends telling me about the case.  He was forced to retire or the scandal would have been horrendous.  She was some high muckety-muck who was bopping him and got caught in an awkward situation.  She was blackmailed and he killed her blackmailer.  They covered it up because he not only got shot, but ‘saved’ her life.  Her husband was grateful."

      You haven’t discussed this with anyone? she asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to confirm.

      Of course, not.  May I ask why you’re investigating him?  He cringed, knowing he had stepped over some invisible line with her...there went his bonus.

      "No, you can’t, but I will pass this information on to my client so they can decide what to do with it.  I’m sure they will be appreciative."  She stressed that last word knowing his greedy mind would grasp it.

      Thank you, he said, relieved.  He had to learn to shut his mouth sooner.  She had sent him numerous ‘clients’ that paid very well.  She had given him his retirement and these extras and he was really set for someday when he did retire.  He couldn’t afford to offend her as he had an eye on a condo near the beach.

      If you find out anything more or remember anything more, let me know.  I don’t know what my client wants with him, but I am sure if he does what you say he does they might want to know.  She planted this in his mind.  It would at least cast any doubt on the thought that she, petite little Alice, had anything to do with his death.

      He smiled, delighted.  Of course....

      After getting off the phone with him, she went to her computer and transferred several thousand dollars to his liquid account.  He would make sure his ‘friend’ in Miami got paid; she didn’t have to worry about that.  There was a network of contacts around the country, hell, around the world, that would do things like this for a price.

      It still didn’t settle the problem of rifling through one Richard Haggard’s files.  She couldn’t have anyone else but herself do it since it was about her!  It settled the problem of going to the police department, which really hadn’t been an option.  He had to have an office somewhere.

      Going back to her trusty computer, she couldn’t find a listing for an office.  Apparently, whatever he did as a sideline to supplement his income he kept quiet so as not to affect his retirement from the force.  That he used contacts and buddies to help him, she had no doubt.  She wondered if anyone besides Bev had been used to research her own life and activities, but she would worry about that when the time came.  She wasn’t going to spend time in useless speculation.  She decided the only way to find out anything was to go to his home.  She had a hard time finding his home, probably a failsafe against anyone he had put away over the years finding him when they got out.  She finally found it through archives of retired L.A.P.D., breaking into their database through a third-party server so no one could trace it back to her.  By the time she found he was divorced (no surprise there) and found his condo on a nice address in Venice, it was dark and she gathered a few things to help her on her foray. 

      She dressed in dark, but inconspicuous clothing.  She wasn’t going to wear a black mask and tight jumpsuit cause that would be too obvious on her lush form.  Instead she chose a baggy sweatshirt she could zip up, some sweatpants with pockets, and a hat that she could put her blonde locks into if necessary.  If anyone saw her they would assume she was out for a jog and she could pull that one off.  She looked at her Porsche in disgust.  It was a highly visible vehicle with its expensive paint and style.  It was too obvious, but she didn’t have a second car to drive and there was no time to rent one.  She shrugged.  She didn’t have a choice, and if the place was swarming with cops, then she would just drive on by.

      Marina Del Rey and Venice Beach were neighboring communities and she was quickly there despite L.A. traffic.  She drove slowly around the cul-de-sac where he lived, realizing there was nowhere for her to park her white Porsche.  She found a park a few blocks away and got out to follow the canals back to his address, figuring out the address from the back along the walkway.  Fortunately, the structure of his house was distinctive.  She saw no lights on.  No one must live with him.  She jogged past his house before

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