Dial Me for Murder by Amanda Matetsky Read Free Book Online Page A

their way to becoming important. Now they are important, and even wealthier than before, and some are clients as well as friends. They’re very eager to enjoy—and more than happy to pay for—the company of the beautiful, exciting, accommodating young women I provide.”
    “Do your clients ever give your . . . er, girls expensive gifts?” I was thinking about the mink jacket, satin dress, diamond jewelry, and lacy lingerie found wrapped in the bedsheet with Virginia’s body.
    “Some do and some don’t. And sometimes it depends on the girl. Virginia, for instance, received many such offerings.”
    I gave Sabrina a steady, penetrating look. “Was Virginia on an arranged date with one of your rich, important friends the night she was killed?”
    She sighed and nodded sadly. “Yes she was, and I’m anxious to talk to you about that. But let’s go into the dining room now, shall we? We can continue our conversation over lunch.”
     
MINUTES LATER WE WERE SEATED AT ONE END of the long mahogany table in Sabrina’s formal dining room, savoring our freshly baked bread and French onion soup, and having a genteel dialogue about prostitution and murder.
    “Virginia was a wonderful person,” Sabrina said, dabbing at her mouth with a white linen napkin. “She was as bright and talented and kind as she was beautiful. All the other girls loved her—and so did I.”
    The proverbial heart of gold, I thought, wondering if every hooker had one. “You said she was your most desirable and— how shall I say?— expensive girl, so I guess your clients loved her, too.”
    “They did indeed. She was the fair-haired favorite. Only my top clients could afford her, though, and I had a hard time arranging her schedule to satisfy their frequent, often overlapping demands.”
    I swallowed the last mouthful of my soup, set the spoon on the plate, and politely inquired, “Which one of your clients was having his demands satisfied the night of the murder?” (I wasn’t being sarcastic now; I was just being curious. Insanely, obsessively, about-to-lose-my-cool curious. Could the name of that one client be the only clue needed to crack the case?)
    Sabrina returned her napkin to her lap and gave me a penetrating gaze. “Before I answer your questions, Paige, I must ask you to answer mine.”
    “Oh?” I said. “What questions are you referring to?” I didn’t recall being asked anything other than what kind of cocktail I wanted.
    “There are several things I need to know before we can proceed,” she said. “First on the list is how much you will charge to undertake this private investigation for me. Don’t be shy. I intend to compensate you handsomely for your time, and if you succeed in identifying the murderer, I will give you a generous bonus.”
    “You don’t have to pay me one dime, Sabrina. I was determined to investigate this story before I ever talked to you. Virginia died a horrendous death, and I’d like nothing better than to see the creep who killed her behind bars. I’m sure my editor will feel the same way, and I expect he’ll assign this story to me as soon as I get back to the office. So, you see, I’ll be delving into this homicide for Daring Detective magazine, and couldn’t possibly accept any money from you. I will, however, be very grateful for any information you can give me.”
    Her penetrating gaze turned into an ugly grimace. “But that’s impossible!” she shrieked, emotions erupting like a volcano. “I can’t allow you to write about Virginia’s murder! That would be the worst thing that could happen.”
    Hey, wait a minute! She can’t allow me? When did Sabrina Stanhope become my boss—or should I say my madam?
    “Sorry, Sabrina, but I have a job to do. And writing about murder is my job. If that disturbs you, I—”
    Charlotte entered the dining room with a large tray in her hands and walked over to the table to collect our soup bowls and plates. “Shall I bring in the main course now,