Guarding the Socialite by Kimberly Van Meter Read Free Book Online Page A

from a grammar school reject like yourself but one can hope for a little variation on the usual theme.”
    Uncertainty crossed Mad Johnny’s features as he tried to think of something equally insulting to counter with but his swelling nose tempered his mean streak as he finally spat, “Yeah? What do you know?” with a fair bit of nervousness.
    â€œI know you’re a small-time criminal with no brains and a taste for hitting women. You use as much as you sell which puts you in debt more often than you’re flush and you’re probably secretly homosexual considering your attitude toward women.” He winked and the pimp’s cheeks turned scarlet—whether from rage or embarrassment he wasn’t sure—and Dillon shook his head. “As fun as it is playing around with your personal tragedy, I have work to do solving a murder and all that, but do yourself a favor and don’t leave town. I suspect we’re going to become well acquainted in the next few days.”
    â€œI didn’t kill her,” Mad Johnny blurted out, wiping at the watery red dribble coming from his nose. “You can’t pin that on me. That bitch was always getting herself into trouble. If she’s dead I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”
    â€œIronically, in spite of the fact that you’re most likely a habitual liar, a thief and a drug addict, I believe you. Still…don’t go anywhere.”
    â€œI ain’t got nothing to hide,” Mad Johnny shot back, but his eyes darted for an escape route, which gave him away. He was going to bolt, the little coward.
    â€œIf I have to find you…a broken nose will be the least of your worries, mate,” Dillon warned, giving him another smile with the promise in his tone. “I’m a bit of a loosecannon, if you know what I mean. Rules? Eh. Like you…I find my way around them.”
    Mad Johnny sputtered but his pasty expression turned to gray dough and Dillon nearly laughed out loud. That felt good. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten breakfast. “I wonder if that bagel place is still around?” he mused, checking out the neighborhood, the pimp dismissed for now. Then he headed off in the direction his stomach required.
    Â 
    Emma was at her desk when Chick came in with the mail, a quizzical expression on her face. “This came in but there’s no postage,” she said, handing Emma the large, white envelope. Just as Emma reached for her letter opener, Chick stilled her hand, saying, “Maybe you should give it to the cops. What if it’s anthrax or something?”
    â€œAnthrax?” Emma repeated with a patient smile. “How would anyone we know get a hold of anthrax? It’s not like you can buy it at the store. The stamp probably fell off in transit or something.”
    â€œWait,” Chick said, her eyes worried. “Why don’t you call that FBI agent before you open it. I got a bad feeling.”
    â€œChick…really?” Emma stopped and stared at her friend, prepared to tease her a little for being paranoid, but there was something about the true distress in Chick’s eyes that gave her pause. Maybe Chick was right. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry,” she conceded, setting the envelope aside. The relief on Chick’s face was worth it, considering the emotional strain they were all suffering since Charlotte’s death. “Anything else?” she asked, returning to the other mail.
    â€œYeah…Ursula was out last night. A john roughed her up.” At that Emma bolted from her chair but Chick stayedher. “She’s in her room and she doesn’t want you to know. She’s afraid you’re going to kick her out.”
    â€œWhy would she think that?” Emma asked, distressed. “Unless she broke the house rules. Did she?”
    â€œNo. She submitted a urine sample and I