Dial Me for Murder

Dial Me for Murder by Amanda Matetsky Read Free Book Online

Book: Dial Me for Murder by Amanda Matetsky Read Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda Matetsky
front of us and informed Sabrina that lunch was ready to be served.
    “Have the asparagus spears been properly chilled?” Sabrina asked her.
    “Yes, mum,” she said.
    “And the dressing for the salmon has been prepared?”
    “Yes, it has.”
    “The soup is hot and the bread is quite warm?”
    “Oh, yes, mum.”
    Sabrina tilted her head back, slowly raised her soft gray eyes, and gave her towering maid an approving smile. “Thank you, Charlotte,” she said. “Mrs. Turner and I have an important matter to discuss. We’ll be in as soon as we’ve finished our cocktails.”
    Apparently she hadn’t noticed that I’d finished mine already.

Chapter 4
    HAVE YOU EVER HAD THE SENSATION THAT you’ve been plucked off the Earth and plunked down on another planet? That you’re twirling around on a foreign globe in an entirely different galaxy? Then you know how I felt that Wednesday afternoon as I sat on the cream-colored couch in Sabrina Stanhope’s luxurious library, listening to a tale so aberrant and unexpected it was almost beyond my comprehension. My head was swimming and my stomach was churning (and it had nothing to do with the chugalugged cocktail—I swear!).
    Sabrina was sitting calmly in her black leather chair, smoking a cigarette, sipping her whiskey sour, and revealing the shocking truth about her private life and her personal affiliation with Virginia Pratt as if there were nothing the least bit unusual about either. She had been talking for just a few minutes, but I’d experienced so many different emotions during her brief monologue, it felt more like a month to me. And in spite of Sabrina’s ordinary tone, and the casual, offhand way she concluded her confession, I still found her disclosure astounding, practically impossible to accept.
    “I don’t believe it!” I said to her. “You’re making the whole thing up!”
    “I promise you I’m not,” she insisted, thin lips curling in an enigmatic smile. “My situation is exactly as I have described it.”
    “But how can that be?” I blustered. “You’re not the type to get involved in anything sordid or disreputable! You’re refined and sophisticated. You live in a posh apartment overlooking Gramercy Park. You have elegant clothes and jewelry, and a devoted maid. Jeez! You even have a library!” I sounded more Bettylike than ever.
    Sabrina smiled again. “It’s really very simple, Paige, but since you’re so skeptical and confused, I’ll spell it out for you one more time. Please listen carefully. I don’t want to have to go over this again.” She paused for a moment, cleared her throat, then gave me a curt, matter-of-fact, but nonetheless mind-boggling summation.
    “I was born into a wealthy and prestigious family,” she said, “raised by governesses and educated in Switzerland. I used to be a fashionable, celebrated socialite—a true lady of leisure— but my circumstances have changed. Now I have to earn my own living. Now I own and operate my own business—a very professional, very successful escort service. I am, in fact, what you would call a ‘madam,’ and I manage an exclusive salon of the smartest, loveliest, highest-priced call girls in the city. Virginia Pratt was one of my girls—the most desirable and high-priced of them all.”
    “But the newspapers said she was a secretary!” I protested. “For a 23rd Street accounting firm!”
    “And so she was. But only during the day. At night she was a luminous temptress who was wined, dined, and adored by some of the richest, most powerful men in Manhattan.”
    “Men you procured for her, I suppose.” It was a statement, not a question, pronounced with a hint of sarcasm. The truth was finally sinking in.
    “Yes, of course,” Sabrina agreed, straightening her shoulders and brushing a wave of ash-blonde hair off her forehead. “My upper-crust background is finally being put to good use. During my debutante days I became friends with many wealthy young men who were on

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