Murder in Store by DC Brod Read Free Book Online Page A

undue hardship on the rest of the species.
    I guess I don’t shock easily, because only one of the files caused a momentary jaw drop. Arthur Judson, Hauser’s
    public relations manager, who was invariably turning up at the opening of a new night spot or art exhibit with at least one impossibly gorgeous woman draped over his arm, was in hock up to his bedroom eyes to loan sharks.
    The information in the file surprised me for a couple reasons. For one, it meant that I’d misjudged the guy in the first place and that maybe I was getting a little naive about people. Judson seemed to have everything going for him. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, but he was pleasant enough. He had an easygoing charm that was as effective with beautiful women as it was with his professional contacts. So here was this guy whom I considered something more than an acquaintance but less than a close friend, and I guess I was both surprised and a little disappointed to learn that he owed upward of twenty grand to some very unsavory characters who didn’t care if he could charm birds out of trees in flocks.
    But what surprised me even more was the existence of the file for Art Judson and the fact that, for some reason, Preston considered him a suspect at all. It was no secret that Art Judson was Preston’s golden boy. He’d hired Art out of college and treated him more like family than an employee. What had Art done to rate an investigation? Is that any way to treat a protégé? Maybe it had something to do with Art’s penchant for beautiful women and his habit of displaying them. Still, it didn’t make sense for Judson to send Hauser threatening letters unless he was planning to extort him later. If you were trying to come by a large amount of money illegally, there had to be easier ways to do it.
    I wondered if Hauser might be blackmailing these people with this information. Then any one of them would logically want him dead, but blackmail wasn’t Hauser’s style. Even if it was, he sure as hell wasn’t stupid enough to dump the evidence in my lap.
    I guess it was a combination of being tired from the
    previous night and the scotch that went down with surprising ease. It wasn’t long before I found myself blinking my eyes to keep the pages in focus. I leaned back into the sofa cushions and let nature take its course.
    When I woke up I felt that sudden grip of panic you get when the setting you are in doesn’t fit into the places-I-have-been part of your consciousness. There was a person squatting next to me at my eye level who did not immediately register in the known part of my mind either.
    “Sorry I woke you,” she murmured. “I thought maybe I’d dreamed you.”
    “That makes two of us,” I said. In the dim light from the hall I could barely make out Elaine’s shape. She switched on the lamp next to the sofa. It must have had an automatic timer because I didn’t remember turning it off.
    I rubbed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair. “What time is it?” I yawned.
    “Four a.m.”
    She was studying me as if for the first time. I did the same. She wore a short robe, fastened at her waist. It was blue terry cloth and slightly worn. Her hair fell loose against her shoulders and her eyes were a serious shade of brown. They matched her expression.
    “What did we decide last night?” She took a cigarette from the pack I had set on the coffee table and lit it with my lighter. Then she sat back on the floor, legs crossed in front of her.
    “I believe we were going to discuss it in the morning. But I assumed it would be when it looked more like day than night.” I hesitated then continued, realizing, to my consternation, that there was an earnest quality about this woman that would not allow me to lie. “I was planning to be out of here before you got up.”
    Her mouth, set in a firm straight line, didn’t give me a clue. She might have been relieved or disappointed. “I was
    going to leave my groceries,” I added.
    She