Deadly Intent by Christiane Heggan Page B

hotel that catered mostly to businessmen and women, judging from the busy lounge at the far end of the lobby. The fact that it was the middle of the week didn’t seem to stop New Yorkers from one of their favorite pastimes—conducting business over chilled martinis.
    After a few minutes’ wait, Ian found a table, ordered a beer and watched his sister behind the bar, serving drinks with a smile that would have melted Antarctica.
    He had to admit she looked a lot better than the last time he’d seen her. She had finally lost those fifteen pesky pounds, and though she was far from the size six she used to be in her younger days, she looked trim and fit. The narrow black pants and the snug white shirt even made her look sexy. Her blond hair was now slick and blunt cut and
    styled in a way that hid that ugly scar on her right cheek. Why she had kept that damn thing when her rich rocker husband could have paid to have it removed was beyond him.
    She wore little makeup, just some blush and a hint of lip color. The results made her look younger than her forty five years. She had never needed makeup anyway. She was one of those fortunate women who looked great the moment she woke up and only got better as the day went on. That’s why she had been such a hit with the guys at school.
    He kept watching her, chewing on the trail mix the waitress had brought him, and wondered how Liz would react once she realized he needed money again. Knowing her, she’d probably laugh in his face and remind him of all the other times he had borrowed from her and never paid her back.
    But then again, she might surprise him. Liz was a strange bird, a loner who didn’t talk or complain much, not even when their father had married Irene DiAngelo. Ian had had plenty to say about that, but Liz, though not pleased, had taken it all in stride. She just wasn’t the type to get emotional about stuff like that.
    On her eighteenth birthday, Liz had pocketed what was left of her share of their father’s inheritance and moved to New York City. There she met and married Jude Tilly, the lead singer of a band so hot at the time, all five members had become instant millionaires. Liz and Jude had lived the high life for a while, jet-setting around the world, entertaining in their Manhattan penthouse and spending, spending, spending.
    And then one day, the band broke up, and Jude’s hopes of staying on top of the charts on his own fell flat. Hit hard, he started drinking and doing drugs, and within a couple of years, the guy was broke. Desperate to help him get his
    life back on track, Liz decided that a baby was just what her husband needed. Then came more bad news. Liz couldn’t have children.
    Instead of comforting his wife, Jude chose that time to file for divorce. After ten years together and more abuse than she deserved, all Liz got from her marriage to the famous rocker was a summerhouse in upstate New York. Or was it in the Berkshires? Ian wasn’t sure because he had never been invited.
    Without Liz to keep Jude out of trouble, the singer’s life began to spin out of control. Three months after the divorce, he died of an overdose.
    For a while, Liz had been inconsolable, but eventually, her survivor instincts had kicked in and she had rejoined the living.
    Looking at her now, the way she mixed, shook and poured, he would have sworn she had done that all her life. But then, why should he be surprised? Liz was the type of person who could do anything once she set her mind to it.
    And if she was so good, she was probably raking in tons of tips.
    He took another sip of his beer, then, reaching into his pocket, he brought out a piece of paper and a pencil, wrote a short message and signaled the waitress.
    “Another beer, sir?” she asked.
    “Not yet.” He handed her the note and gave her his most charming smile. “Do me a favor, will you, doll? Give this to the barmaid.” When she hesitated, he handed her a five-dollar bill. The tip was a little