Duffel Bags And Drownings Read Free Page B

face.
    She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to upset Cady like that. She walked in so I told
     her. I mean, I had to tell her, didn’t I? Somebody had to tell her.”
    “You work here, right?” I asked.
    “Lourdes Vaughn,” she said. “I’m Faye’s assistant.”
    I guess I should have figured that, given that she had on nice pants, blouse, and
     blazer, and wasn’t wearing a hairnet.
    “I’m sure Cady will feel better after she goes home and gets some rest,” I said.
    I had no idea if that would help or not, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
    “With all the work we have scheduled for today? No way will Faye let her leave,” Lourdes
     said. “Besides, Cady wouldn’t get any rest at home. Not with that husband of hers.”
    That didn’t sound good.
    Lourdes glanced toward the hallway that led to the rear of the shop. “I hope Faye
     won’t be mad at me for telling her,” she said.
    “Did you know Jeri well?” I asked.
    Annoyance flashed across Lourdes’ face. “I’m afraid so,” she told me. “Everybody knew
     Jeri well. She made sure of it.”
    Lourdes huffed irritably, then turned to me and gasped, as if really seeing me for
     the first time.
    “Oh, you’re Haley. From L.A. Affairs. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you right away.”
    She was in all-out back-pedal mode now, anxious to make a good impression on me, the
     person who’d given Cady Faye Catering their big break.
    It was kind of cool.
    “Look, this is all probably nothing,” Lourdes said. “I don’t see how Jeri could have
     been murdered, like the cops are saying. I mean, lots of people didn’t really like
     her but that doesn’t mean somebody—somebody
here
—actually killed her. Who would dislike her that much?”
    Good question.
    “Miss Randolph?” Detective Elliston called.
    I turned and saw him standing outside the conference room next to—oh, wow, some really
     hot looking guy. He was in his early thirties, I figured, a little over six feet tall
     with a muscular build, blond hair and—oh wow again—deep blue eyes.
    “My partner, Detective Grayson,” Elliston said.
    “Dan Grayson,” he said, and offered his hand.
    I took it. Heat raced up my arm.
    “She found the victim,” Elliston said. “Haley Randolph.”
    Dan nodded. “We’ll need a few more minutes of your—Randolph? Haley Randolph?”
    The heat that had consumed me turned to ice.
    “
The
Haley Randolph?” Dan asked, frowning.
    Oh, crap.
    Yeah, okay, I had a bit of a reputation with the LAPD. It was because of those other
     homicide detectives I’d met during past investigations—long story.
    “Let’s get this over with,” I said, then put my nose in the air—one of the few traits
     I’d inherited from my pageant queen mom—and glided into the conference room.
    I took a seat at the table. The detectives sat side by side across from me.
    “I’ve heard about you down at headquarters,” Dan said.
    I don’t think he meant that as a compliment.
    “Then you’ve probably also heard that I’m better at solving murders than some of the
     detectives,” I told him, and refrained, somehow, from doing a fist-pump.
    A tiny grin pulled at his lips—which I only noticed because he was sitting directly
     across from me, I swear.
    “Tell us what happened,” Dan said, shifting into serious-cop mode.
    “Faye needed to find Cady and Jeri, so I and some other people went looking for them,”
     I said, trying to make it sound routine.
    “But you’re the only one who looked in the ice room,” Dan pointed out. “Why is that?”
    I’d learned a long time ago that the less said to a homicide detective, the better—for
     me, anyway. So no way was I going to let this interview get bogged down with a lot
     of unnecessary details.
    “You’d have to ask the others why they didn’t look there,” I said.
    “Why did you come here today?” Dan asked.
    This didn’t seem like the best time to mention that perhaps my job at L.A. Affairs
     was hanging