Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red Read Free

any stupid children. I was smart enough to play along when a dame showed a yen to flirt. No sense raising questions I didn’t want to answer. Besides, having her autographed photo on my desk could only help when future clients came to call.
    She smirked as she signed it, obviously thinking she had me back on a leash. But nobody puts Grey Randall, private dick, on a leash. I may let them think so, but only till I get what I’m after.

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    9

    She slid it across the desk with a smug look as I took a glance before putting it in the top drawer to file later. “I was a dish, wasn’t I?”
    “Was? You still are. And now the photograph of Miss Saint-Ville, please.”
    After fixing me with a gaze that bored right through me, Miss McIntyre seemed to make up her mind about me. She opened her bag again and took out another photograph.
    It was a black-and-white publicity still, the kind used by actresses, singers, and dancers, shot with professional lighting. Still, the girl had been lovely, beautiful, even. Which in itself could constitute a motive.
    “Boyfriend?”
    “Yes. More than one, I suspect.”
    “Don’t you know?”
    “She spoke of seeing more than one man. She never mentioned any names.” Miss McIntyre made a graceful gesture with her hand.
    “You understand, in the entertainment business, one meets a number of… admirers, shall we say?”
    “And maybe one of them got a little out of hand?”
    “Perhaps.” Miss McIntyre didn’t seem too shocked by the idea.
    “Was she a hooker?”
    “No, Mr. Randall, she was not!” she snapped.
    “Not even amateur? Look, Miss Lily, entertainment is a tough business to break into. Sometimes girls have to do things to make ends meet—”
    “She was a lovely girl. Not in my league as a dancer, of course,” she added modestly, “but these days what passes for talent would barely have landed you onto a casting couch back then. Not that I’m past it. I can still do a high kick over your head.” She peered at me deviously, just hoping I would ask. Well, I’m a gentleman, and I can never refuse a beautiful dame.
    “I may need to see that, just as part of the case, ma’am,” I murmured.

    10

    CATT FORD

    “Call me Lily,” she said. She rose languidly to her feet, letting the stole slip behind her to the floor, and came around my desk like a panther on the prowl, sleek and dangerous.
    She approached my chair, and my nostrils were filled with the feminine scent of her. I sniffed, trying to identify it. Lily of the valley. I can always tell.
    She swung her leg up and over my head with no apparent effort, remaining perfectly balanced. Obviously she had a cleverly concealed slit in her skirt that I’d missed, cut up to the thigh. I applauded. Hey, even a hard-nosed, booze-swilling, seen-it-all dick like me can appreciate talent when I see it. That and she had on some really glam lace-topped stockings.
    “Very nice,” I said, keeping my breathing steady. After all, I was a dick, a private dick, and I know complications when I see them.
    “What does that have to do with your case, Miss Lily?” She remained standing in front of me, crowding me. Not that I minded. But it was odd how she didn’t back away from me. Almost as if….
    I gasped when she suddenly planted her right foot on my chest, my hands gripping the arms of my chair, ready to take her down if she proved dangerous. She leaned forward slightly, increasing the pressure on my chest, applying enough pressure that I knew I would see the mark that the heel of her expensive shoe left there tomorrow.
    She leaned closer, saying, “Mr. Randall, dancers are very flexible.”
    “So am I, ma’am, and if you don’t take your foot off my chest, I may have to show you, and I don’t think you’ll like it very much.” She smiled and increased the pressure of her heel. “If I really put my weight into it, this heel would cut right through you like butter.” I