Mayhem in High Heels by Gemma Halliday Read Free Book Online

him in on my plan to get past Sweater Vest as we rode the elevator back up to the seventh floor.
    Marco strode through the glass doors, Dana and I hanging back. We waited through a five-Mississippi count, then followed, crouching low as we pushed through the doors, then crab walked across the hardwood floor, ducking below the desk.
    "Are you sure Jennifer Moss doesn't work here?" I heard Marco saying. "I swear she said to bring the lattes to the conference room on the seventh floor. You know how much trouble I'm gonna be in if she isn't here?"
    Sweater Vest let out a loud sigh. "I'm sorry, but she doesn't work here."
    "Maybe she's new?"
    Another sigh. This one even louder. "I'll check again, but I can almost guarantee you've got the wrong building."
    The sound of fingers clacking on the keyboard sounded above, and Marco glanced down to give me a wink.
    While Sweater Vest had his full attention engaged with the names on his computer screen, Dana and I continued our crabwalk around the right side of the desk, slipping down a hallway and to the left before straightening up to our full height.
    Wow. It worked. Whatta ya know?
    I glanced around the hallway, getting my bearings. It was punctuated by offices on either side, each filled with men and women in tailored suits talking into Bluetooth sets. I gingerly peeked my head around each doorframe, checking out the nameplates on the doors until we hit a large one in the corner with the words "Seth Summerville" stenciled in flowing script.
    I stuck my head in. Seth Summerville had his back to me, his full attention on the floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 110 freeway as he shouted into his headset.
    "No, go low. We want to cut off their assets at the ankles, Bob. We can't have this coming back to bite us in the ass with the fourth-quarter returns."
    Dana squared her shoulders beside me and, before I could stop her, knocked loudly on the doorframe.
    Seth Summerville spun around, and I got a good look at him. Salt-and-pepper hair, a long face, pointed nose, sharp eyes to match his sharp features. I put him in his midfifties, that age when men start becoming "distinguished" and women start going away for weeks at a time to have stuff "done." He wore a white button down over navy slacks, a matching blazer carelessly thrown over the back of an enormous leather desk chair. He had a broad, solid build and an aura about him that said he was used to getting his way, positively reeking of power in a manner that was more than a little intimidating. I suddenly felt about twelve in my jeans and tank. Like I was playing at being a grownup, but this guy was the real deal.
    Luckily, Dana didn't intimidate that easily.
    "Mr. Summerville?" she asked.
    His brows hunched together. "Call you back in five, Bob," he told his Bluetooth. Then directed his attention toward us. "Can I help you?"
    "Hi, my name's Dana Dashel and this is my colleague, Maddie Springer."
    Colleague? I raised one eyebrow at her as Seth waited for the punchline.
    "We're looking into the death of your ex-wife, Gigi Van Doren. We're working with the police," she added with a solemn nod.
    Oh brother.
    And Seth didn't seem to buy it either, taking in my high-heeled boots and Dana's micro mini with a pair of narrowed eyes.
    "Any statement you need from me can be obtained through my lawyer."
    "Fine, then we'll just come back with a warrant," Dana countered.
    "Uh," I stepped forward, elbowing Dana in the ribs.
    "Ow."
    "Ix-nay on the arrant-wa," I whispered out the side of my mouth. "Actually, Mr. Summerville, we're not actually police officers."
    "You don't say." Wow, the man had deadpan down to a science.
    "No. I'm... well, I was a client of Gigi's."
    "And good friend," Dana piped up, stretching the truth just a tad again.
    I was about to give her another elbow, but the friend bit seemed to soften Seth's features.
    "I was very sorry to hear of her passing," he said. Though whether that was part of