Power to the Max by Jasmine Haynes Read Free Book Online Page A

She patted Max’s hand for reassurance. “We’ve got a fire going ... no, no, no, we aren’t going to burn the house down. And yes, it’s cold enough now that the sun’s gone down ... we’re sitting here having a cup of tea and a question’s come up.” She winked for Max’s benefit. “Well, Cameron was saying ... no, I can’t hear him, Horace told me what he said ... no, there’s no whiskey in my cup ... there’s nothing but tea in Max’s either, will you listen ... All right. Cameron says there was something in the pocket of that poor man’s—” She stopped and raised a brow at Max. Max mouthed jacket. “Jacket ... a sapphire bracelet and an apartment key ... did they find anything like that?” She stopped, listened, cocked her head as if Witt could somehow see the action. “Oh that’s too bad. Max—I mean Cameron was so sure ... well, maybe you can confirm tomorrow ... wonderful ... I love you, Sweetie-boy.” She held the phone away and pushed the end button.

    “Sweetie-boy?” Max couldn’t resist repeating.

    “Oh, that really ticks him off.” Ladybird’s laughter tinkled across the room.

    Max laughed, too—Witt’s mother would never stop shocking her—then got back to the matter at hand. “He doesn’t know anything about it?”

    “No.” Ladybird leaned forward onto her elbows, hands clasped above her half-empty champagne glass. “Why don’t you tell me everything you know?”

    “He had those things in his pocket. If they’re gone now, someone took them. Either the wife to cover her tracks—”

    “Or the girl to stall the police in finding her.”

    Max considered. “Could be either.”

    Ladybird leaned closer and whispered, “But if it was the wife, it could mean the girl’s body—”

    “Is in the apartment,” Max finished for her.

    “Oh my dear”—Ladybird patted her hand—“we think so much alike.”

    “Oh my goodness, we do,” Max agreed in horror—Ladybird’s Jessica Fletcher to her Lieutenant Columbo. Witt would skin Max alive for this.

    Ladybird asked one more conspiratorial question. “How do we find out where the apartment is?”

    Max glanced up as someone entered the bar. A tall woman, sable hair, wearing a tailored cream suit over a muted red blouse. “We’re not going to find the girl’s body there.”

    Ladybird’s lips became a round O of wonder. “How do you know so quickly?”

    “Because she just walked in.”

     

     

    Chapter Five

     

     

    Max got a sudden vision of shooting stars, angels, and a sweet, ripe moon. Angels and rockets? Angela Rocket. That’s who the woman was. Or who she wanted to be. She sent a man to the moon with the first touch of her lips on his joystick. Blast off, baby . Max read it all with one quick stroke of telepathy, if telepathy is what the intuitive flash could be called. She no longer questioned the things that popped into her head. She’d learned to accept them as significant.

    Angela was younger than Max had first thought, early twenties. Wearing a double choker of pearls and gold studs in her ears, her taste obviously ran to the expensive. Unless the pearls weren’t real. The suit was tailored, Evan Picone or Anne Klein. Max did know her department-store designers. Tasteful and well-turned out, Angela had left her hair, her best feature, loose. Breezing through, signaling subtly to the bartender as she passed him, she settled in at a table two over from Max and Ladybird’s. Wine list in hand, bartender now patiently at her side, she perused the choices, asked a question or two, then pointed. No cheap house wine for her, Max was sure. The bartender tugged on his brocade vest, nodded, smiled, and rushed to do her bidding. When he returned, the drink she ordered shimmered golden in the soft glow of the candle. She brought the glass to her lips, sniffed gently, then took a sip, closing her eyes in appreciation. The bartender beamed. Max saw only the soft red stain of lipstick she left on the