Killer Heels by Sheryl J. Anderson Read Free Book Online

that point, lest he be seen as in any way more interested in me than I was in him.
    “’Night, ladies,” he said, and made his exit. You take your life in your hands any time you try to predict what a man is going to do, but sometimes you have to throw the dice and, wonder of wonders, every now and then they surprise you in a positive way. Men are experts on negative surprises, of course. But in all honesty, most of the times I’ve gotten bad surprises, when I looked back later—with the benefit of time and a good, stiff drink—I’ve realized that it wasn’t so much that the man surprised me as I wasn’t paying close enough attention. The boyfriend who cheats—it’s not really a surprise that he cheats, it’s a surprise that I didn’t realize it was happening. The boyfriend who bolts—it’s not that he left, it’s that I should be able to spot intimacy issues at ten paces at this point. The boyfriend who lies—who doesn’t?
    “Well, that was pleasant,” Cassady said, toasting Peter’s departing back. “How over is it?”
    “If it wasn’t before, it is now,” I said. I lifted my brandy alexander to Tricia. “Thanks, Tricia, I may get hooked on these.”
    “Oh, that wasn’t my intent at all.” Tricia eased my hand back down to the table. “Fat and carbs, like all else, in moderation.”
    “My imagination, or was he trying to scoop your story?” Cassady asked.
    “Over my and Teddy’s dead bodies,” I replied.
    “So it is all about the story,” Cassady sneered.
    “No.” I wished I sounded a little more convincing, so I continued, “Not completely. It’s about making sure Teddy doesn’t get lost in the shuffle. It’s about a hunch I have that the cops are going down the wrong path.”
    “And then it’s about the story,” Tricia finished for me.
    “Plus the handsome detective,” Cassady contributed.
    I turned to Cassady, surprised at her stance. “You saw him. Teddy, I mean. Don’t you get it?”
    “I guess, but …” Cassady shook her head. “Hey, if you’re going to be an idiot, be an idiot for really good reasons. And a gorgeous guy and a possible strong career move qualify.”
    “But I’m still an idiot.”
    “Only if you wind up dead. So please, prove us wrong.”
    “Yeah, well, if I do wind up dead, make sure someone other than Peter gets the story.” We clinked glasses on that one, a nice warm moment shattered by the trill of my cell phone. Mine’s the one that plays “Satin Doll.”
    I reached for it and Tricia grimaced. “Who could it possibly be that’s more interesting and/or important than we are?”
    Cassady grinned. “The fine young detective.”
    It wasn’t. It was my editor, Yvonne. “Oh. My. God. Molly. Are you … all right?” Yvonne’s very sparing with punctuation in the magazine’s prose, but she uses it freely in her conversation.
    “Yvonne, where are you?”
    “Where do you think? In the office! Ankle-deep in blood! Strange people in dark uniforms—I’m beside myself. Molly. I can only imagine. How you must … feel.”
    I couldn’t find a nice way to tell her that I’d been feeling better until she called. “I’ll be fine, Yvonne. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
    “You? Sorry for me? I didn’t even see his body. Much less trip over it. In the dark! You. Poor. Dear.”
    I sighed and propped my head up with my hand. Once Yvonne got rolling, it was hard to tell how long a conversation was going to last, though it would probably not be much longer than the average article in Zeitgeist . Cassady rolled her eyes supportively and filled the champagne glasses. “Helen’s the one we should be worried about, Yvonne,” I said. “Maybe you should talk to her in the morning.”
    “No. I’m going. Out there now.”
    “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” My heart, already broken for Helen, shattered further at the thought of Helen having to deal with Yvonne and her big mouth and cotton candy hair in the middle of the