Jaine Austen 1 - This Pen for Hire by Laura Levine Read Free Book Online

going to have to shut down production for a whole week. And we’re way behind on scripts as it is. I don’t suppose you’ve come up with any cockroach stories?”
    “No, the cockroach muse hasn’t struck.”
    She shot me a dirty look, then flounced over to the counter. Minutes later she came back with a chocolate chip muffin the size of a Volkswagen.
    “Here,” she said, cutting it in two. “Have half.”
    “I can’t. Really. If my thighs get any bigger, I’ll have to rent them out as condos.”
    “C’mon. It’s a muffin. Muffins are healthy.”
    “There’s no way I’m eating this muffin,” I said, grabbing my half. We sat and chewed companionably for a minute or two.
    “Oh, well,” Kandi said, obviously mellowed out by her chocolate fix. “The cockroach’s hernia will heal, and I’ll live to date again. Which reminds me. I heard of a great new way to meet guys—Christie’s auction house.”
    The woman is tireless in her search for a mate. Utterly tireless.
    “The place is loaded with eligibles. The script supervisor on Beanie met her fiancé there. A stockbroker. They were bidding against each other for a painting. He got the painting, and she got him. I’m sending away for their auction schedule. We’ll go together.”
    “I don’t think so. Those kind of ritzy places intimidate me.”
    “Don’t be silly. You’ve got to start dating one of these days.”
    “Actually, I am dating.”
    Kandi put down her half of the muffin. “You are?”
    “Well, not exactly dating, but I do have a date.”
    “With who?”
    “Someone I met while I was investigating a murder.”
    “A murder? Oh, my God. Tell me all about it.”
    And I did.
    “I don’t believe it,” she said, when I was through. “You’ve been impersonating a cop?”
    “And a newspaper reporter.”
    “You’d better be careful or you’ll wind up in His ’n Hers jail cells with Howard.”
    “Oh, come on. They don’t arrest you for telling little white lies.”
    “Just be careful, will you? This whole thing sounds dangerous to me.”
    She was right, of course. It was dangerous. And I realized, much to my surprise, that the danger was a turn-on. For the first time in a long time I had some adrenaline pumping through my veins alongside Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. And it felt good.
    “I can’t believe you’re dating one of the suspects.”
    “I told you. We’re not really dating. We’re just going to a movie together. And he’s not really a suspect. He was away in San Francisco at the time of the murder.”
    “That’s what he says. There’s a crazy new invention called an airplane that whisks people from San Francisco to Los Angeles in no time at all.”
    She had a point there. A point I hadn’t considered.
    “Besides,” she said, “if you ask me, he’s gay.”
    “You think so?”
    “Of course he’s gay. Antiques dealer. Fabulous apartment. Platonic relationship with an older woman. Taking you to a campy movie in Silver Lake, a neighborhood with more gays per square foot than a Bette Midler concert. It’s all Classic Homosexual.”
    Now it was my turn to rip a napkin to shreds. Kandi was right. How could I have been stupid enough to think that Cameron was interested in me romantically? I was a Marian-substitute. Nothing more.
    And what if he had flown to L.A. the night of the murder? It would have been easy enough to fly in, kill Stacy, and fly back up to San Francisco. And then get in his car and drive back to L.A. the next day, just in time to flash a blue-eyed smile at a dopey writer pretending to be a cop.
    I downed the rest of my mocha latte in a single gulp, wishing it were Scotch.
     
    The next day I called Cameron and told him I had to check on his whereabouts the night of the murder. Not that I believed in the slightest that he had anything to do with the murder, I assured him. It was strictly routine cop stuff.
    “Sure thing,” he said, “I understand. I was staying at the Union Street Inn.”
    I