Poor Little Bitch Girl by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online Page A

brilliant girl who has done some outstanding work for our firm.”
    Brilliant , outstanding ! I preened a little. This was the first time I’ve heard such a positive statement of my talents coming from my boss, although I’m not thrilled that he referred to me as a “girl.” Surely “woman” is more appropriate?
    Ralph Maestro was unimpressed. “She looks awfully young,” he grumbled, hardly a man bent double with grief. “And what kind of name is Denver?”
    It’s my name, asshole. So don’t even go there.
    He didn’t, and neither did Felix, who knew better than to do so. We’d had the name discussion a few months after I’d joined the firm. “Maybe you should change your name to something less strange,” Felix had suggested.
    Strange? I’d never considered Denver strange. In fact, I was very fond of my name. According to my parents I’d been named for the city I was conceived in, and Denver suited me just fine.
    The two detectives had left the room, but they remained in the house, huddling in the front hallway, no doubt trying to decide their next move. To arrest or not to arrest. That was the question.
    No weapon. No apparent motive. No witnesses.
    My guess was that they wouldn’t risk it. Ralph Maestro is famous. He has clout. He knows all the right people. And in Beverly Hills having connections means everything.
    “Nothing wrong with being young,” I said brightly, which was probably not a wise thing to say, because after that Mr Maestro froze me out and spoke only to Felix, even when I asked the questions.
    If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a big fat chauvinist, and even though Ralph Maestro is not fat – still surprisingly buff, actually – he’s an obvious chauvinist.
    I started wondering if he’d done it. Shot his beautiful wife in the face. Killed her beauty and her future.
    Bang. Bang. You’re dead.
    He’d always had a thing about guns. I can recall Annabelle dragging me down to the basement one day where there was a locked room dedicated to his gun collection. Naturally Annabelle was adept at picking the flimsy lock; she was one of those girls who did anything she wanted and always got away with it. And on that particular day she’d been intent on showing off her famous dad’s gun collection.
    I decided it was time to jog Mr Maestro’s memory. What the hell, I certainly had nothing to lose.
    “Uh, Mr Maestro,” I ventured. “Or do you mind if I call you Ralph?”
    He threw me a baleful glance. Yes, he minded, it was written all over his movie-star face.
    “Do you still have your gun room downstairs?” I continued.
    “Huh?” Felix said, quite startled.
    “Excuse me?” said Ralph, also somewhat surprised.
    “Your gun room,” I repeated.
    “What gun room?” interrupted Felix, almost spitting out a mint.
    “How do you know about that room?” Ralph demanded, shooting me a very action movie-star-ish suspicious look.
    At least I finally had his attention. “Your daughter Annabelle and I used to be friends,” I volunteered. “We were at school together.”
    Now it was Felix’s turn to shoot me a look – a look that said, “How come I’m only just finding this out?”
    “You and Anna were friends?” Ralph asked as if to say, “How is that possible?”
    “Yes, we hung out for a short time.”
    “And you came to my house?”
    I noticed he said “my house,” not “our house.” Interesting.
    “That’s right,” I said, feeling that I was the one being questioned.
    “So you’re saying that my daughter took you into my private gun room?” he went on, his tone verging on outraged that she would do such a thing.
    “She was probably showing off on your behalf,” I answered. “You know how kids are.”
    Ralph shook his head as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.
    I took the time to study his face. It was definitely a face meant for the big screen. Larger than life and craggy, with a strong jawline and enormous white teeth. Ralph Maestro was