Killer Heels Read Free Page B

brother-in-law for the last six months and the sex is great, but I’m starting to feel guilty and still feel the need to ask, Should I come clean with my sister? Like any reasonably intelligent, self-respecting woman who survived high school doesn’t know that given a choice between keeping a secret and sharing the truth, you lock up that diary and throw away the key.
    “Oh, man,” Officer Hendryx blurted. “I shoulda known. Molly Forrester. ‘You Can Tell Me.’” He grinned at me the way I thought guys only grinned at professional athletes.
    Cassady arched an eyebrow at him. “You read Molly’s column?”
    “Not really,” Officer Hendryx confessed. “My girlfriend basically reads it to me. It’s her favorite part of the magazine, and she’s always saying, ‘Ohmigod, Davey, you gotta listen to this!’ She’s gonna be so amazed I met you.”
    “We’re all very happy for you, Officer,” Detective Edwards said, just firmly enough for Officer Hendryx to straighten up and shut up. Detective Edwards swung those very impressive blue eyes back over to me. “And why are you and your lawyer here after hours, Ms. Forrester?”
    “She’s not my lawyer. She’s a lawyer, but not my lawyer.”
    “She’s also in the room,” Cassady pointed out. “We’re friends. We were having drinks and Molly said there was a hideous piece of art here in the office that I had to see.”
    “Is it still here?” Detective Edwards looked around.
    “Ohmigod, you don’t think Teddy interrupted some sort of art theft?” It came out before I’d really thought it through and they all looked at me in varying degrees of surprise.
    Detective Lipscomb tried to sound patient, but he made sure the effort showed. “We have to consider all the possibilities at this stage.”
    “Not that one. Teddy wasn’t exactly the heroic type. If someone came in to steal the monstrosity, I bet Teddy would’ve held the door open for them. Not that Teddy would have been in on it or anything …” Maybe if I kept talking long enough, my brain would catch up with my mouth. But right now, my mouth had quite a good lead. Maybe it was time to go back to bobbling.
    The detectives exchanged a look, then Detective Edwards put his hand on my arm. I’m sure it was meant to calm me, but it didn’t. “Can you show me this piece of art?” I nodded and started to walk past Teddy and all his new companions, then stopped, very conscious of my bare feet. I looked down and so did Detective Edwards. He nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry about the shoes, but we’re going to have to keep them for a while.”
    “Not like the blood’s going to come out of them,” Cassady muttered behind us. I looked around, surprised that she was following us. “The statue’s the whole reason I’m here,” she explained. “I’m damn well gonna see it, if it’s not gone.”
    It wasn’t. It was still squatting on its pedestal outside The Publisher’s office. It was called Muse 47 . According to The Publisher, the artist said it was the embodiment of the urge to create. To me, it looked like a disfigured gnome straining to pass a kidney stone. Detective Edwards looked at it for a few minutes, taking in the statue itself, then examined The Publisher’s reception area, even checking the carpet for footprints and other trace evidence. The carpet and furnishings in this part of the office are just as bland as the ones in our part of the office, but you can tell they cost more. The chrome shines more brightly or something. Detective Edwards didn’t seem particularly impressed by any of it. I stood as quietly as possible, watching his every move. Cassady frowned at the sculpture. “Modern art’s such a joke.”
    “Pretty sweeping statement,” Detective Edwards countered, continuing his inspection.
    “Unless the law has changed since I left my office, I’m entitled to my opinion.” It’s always an education to watch Cassady sizing up an opponent, deciding whether he can