Bombshell by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Coulter
he, and he is not going to like you,
pas du tout.
” Gabrielle gave him a wicked smile, and sashayed away, hips at full throttle. Griffin smiled after her since he wasn’t dead, and followed her mobile butt and swinging hair toward the noise. He’d hoped to find the professor alone, but that was not to be.
He stepped into a long, narrow living room to see a half-dozen women, though none in shorts like Gabrielle, all chatting and laughing as they filled plastic tubs with dirty plates and glasses, emptied overflowing ashtrays, rearranged furniture. How did the good professor manage to pull off a cleaning crew like this? And in this weather? Griffin was impressed.
Professor Salazar was the only man in the room. Griffin hadn’t taken the time to check up on Salazar before he came over. He wanted to get a sense of his character before knowing anything else about him. He was tall and dark, his black eyes heavily lidded—
smooth-looking
was the word that came to Griffin’s mind. His haughty dark brows and high-bridged nose were set in a face that hadn’t seen forty in a good long time. He had thick black hair, with distinguished flecks of gray at the temples, and beautiful hands, with long, tapered fingers. All in all, Griffin thought, he managed to carry off the European aristocrat look rather well, but sadly, he also reminded Griffin of a complacent lizard sunning on a rock, fully aware that his rock was the most important anywhere around. He was wearing dark slacks, moccasins, and of all things, he wore a smoking jacket. A cigarillo dangled between his fingers. Maybe he was trying for the Barcelona Bohemian look. Griffin wanted to tell him he was an idiot to smoke.
He was staring toward Griffin, not moving. He did not look happy. And why was that, since his house was getting cleaned for him?
“Oh, hi,” said another young woman, stepping in front of him. She came to his armpit, a little fairy with long glossy light brown hair kept back from her face with a gold band. She was wearing sweats and sneakers. “I’m Gloria. I play the viola.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “My goodness, I can’t believe Professor Salazar actually asked you here to help clean up. Why haven’t I ever seen you before?”
“I just got into town.”
She brightened. “What is your instrument?”
“Sorry, no instrument.” He pulled out his creds again. “He didn’t invite me. I’m from the FBI, here to see the professor.”
Gloria blinked up at him as she quickly stepped back. “I swear we didn’t smoke anything but a little weed last night, and Professor Salazar didn’t know about it, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t have any—I didn’t see any cocaine or anything
really
illegal like that, really.”
“I’m here because of Delsey Freestone.” He’d raised his voice a bit and the room fell silent, every face fastened on his. “Have you heard what happened to her?”
Griffin saw Professor Salazar straighten when he said Delsey’s name. He hurried over, introducing himself in midstride. Griffin showed him his creds and the good professor waved them away.
“What do you mean about Delsey? Something’s happened to her? Is she all right? She left last night without telling me. I looked for her, but someone said she slipped out the back door. I tried calling her this morning to see if she wanted to come over, but there was no answer, only voice mail. Why is the FBI here?”
Griffin told them Delsey was in the hospital with a concussion because she’d been struck down in her apartment late last night, assailant unknown. He said nothing about the blood in the bathtub. “No one called any of you? Apparently, it’s all over town.”
Salazar said, “Our little party ended rather late. I gather many of us have hardly been out. But she will be all right, will she not?”
Griffin nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” another young woman said, this one thin as her black pigtails, and wearing six rings on her fingers. She
pas du tout.
” Gabrielle gave him a wicked smile, and sashayed away, hips at full throttle. Griffin smiled after her since he wasn’t dead, and followed her mobile butt and swinging hair toward the noise. He’d hoped to find the professor alone, but that was not to be.
He stepped into a long, narrow living room to see a half-dozen women, though none in shorts like Gabrielle, all chatting and laughing as they filled plastic tubs with dirty plates and glasses, emptied overflowing ashtrays, rearranged furniture. How did the good professor manage to pull off a cleaning crew like this? And in this weather? Griffin was impressed.
Professor Salazar was the only man in the room. Griffin hadn’t taken the time to check up on Salazar before he came over. He wanted to get a sense of his character before knowing anything else about him. He was tall and dark, his black eyes heavily lidded—
smooth-looking
was the word that came to Griffin’s mind. His haughty dark brows and high-bridged nose were set in a face that hadn’t seen forty in a good long time. He had thick black hair, with distinguished flecks of gray at the temples, and beautiful hands, with long, tapered fingers. All in all, Griffin thought, he managed to carry off the European aristocrat look rather well, but sadly, he also reminded Griffin of a complacent lizard sunning on a rock, fully aware that his rock was the most important anywhere around. He was wearing dark slacks, moccasins, and of all things, he wore a smoking jacket. A cigarillo dangled between his fingers. Maybe he was trying for the Barcelona Bohemian look. Griffin wanted to tell him he was an idiot to smoke.
He was staring toward Griffin, not moving. He did not look happy. And why was that, since his house was getting cleaned for him?
“Oh, hi,” said another young woman, stepping in front of him. She came to his armpit, a little fairy with long glossy light brown hair kept back from her face with a gold band. She was wearing sweats and sneakers. “I’m Gloria. I play the viola.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “My goodness, I can’t believe Professor Salazar actually asked you here to help clean up. Why haven’t I ever seen you before?”
“I just got into town.”
She brightened. “What is your instrument?”
“Sorry, no instrument.” He pulled out his creds again. “He didn’t invite me. I’m from the FBI, here to see the professor.”
Gloria blinked up at him as she quickly stepped back. “I swear we didn’t smoke anything but a little weed last night, and Professor Salazar didn’t know about it, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t have any—I didn’t see any cocaine or anything
really
illegal like that, really.”
“I’m here because of Delsey Freestone.” He’d raised his voice a bit and the room fell silent, every face fastened on his. “Have you heard what happened to her?”
Griffin saw Professor Salazar straighten when he said Delsey’s name. He hurried over, introducing himself in midstride. Griffin showed him his creds and the good professor waved them away.
“What do you mean about Delsey? Something’s happened to her? Is she all right? She left last night without telling me. I looked for her, but someone said she slipped out the back door. I tried calling her this morning to see if she wanted to come over, but there was no answer, only voice mail. Why is the FBI here?”
Griffin told them Delsey was in the hospital with a concussion because she’d been struck down in her apartment late last night, assailant unknown. He said nothing about the blood in the bathtub. “No one called any of you? Apparently, it’s all over town.”
Salazar said, “Our little party ended rather late. I gather many of us have hardly been out. But she will be all right, will she not?”
Griffin nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” another young woman said, this one thin as her black pigtails, and wearing six rings on her fingers. She