The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) Read Free Page B

could understand why she overlooked that minor variance. Mona was instructed to romance and set up Teddy to come here for a sting, but it never mentioned what the sting was. She was to get double her usual fee.
    “Even I don’t get that. No wonder you jumped.”
    Mona’s lips thinned in anger. “Now I feel like an idiot.”

    “Too late. The question is, who set us up? And why?”

 
    Chapter 7
     
    Flying Blind
     
    My definition of flying blind: Doing something tricky without the basic faculties for doing it, which could lead to disaster. It was something I never felt comfortable with, hated and should be accustomed to by now, but wasn’t. I didn’t know which way to turn. Here I was sitting on something, waiting for it to happen, but wasn’t privy as to what it was, which, obviously, now included Mona.
    Mona was sucked into this and should have known better. She was a professional: previously associated with the FBI and other nefarious (that word alone should speak volumes) organizations, of which she would never reveal to me. I can only imagine who they were. She was tight-lipped to a fault, just like Clay when he was working on the job.
    Trust me, both of them are a constant challenge.
    I was typing at my laptop while sipping a fresh cup of coffee the next morning, working in Alicia’s posh home office. Since Alicia sold her gallery in New Hope, she had picked up her loft office there and settled it into her own home. Since that space was pretty much the same size, she set it up exactly the same way.
    I’d gotten used to working on her antique desk. It was solid cherry and oval shaped all the way around from top to bottom with intricate wood veneers, marble strips, and gold ornamentation. The top of the desk was inlayed with dark green leather, ringed with an edge of gold stenciling.
    Her camel-backed striped fabric sofa was a coral and pale green. A black-lacquer painted wooden chair with cane backing and matching seat cushion complimented it. A leather suitcase coffee table tied the grouping together.
    Next to the desk was the now familiar deeper green and navy fabric-covered wing chair, the same shade as the leather on the desk. Right behind me she placed her old four-shelf cherry weathered bookcase filled with the same antique books she loved to collect. As I had stated once before while working in her loft at her gallery, if I had a wish-list dream space to work in, this was it.
    I emailed Clay earlier, left messages on his cell: nothing, then tried investigating this Teddy of Mona’s. My online search was a no-go: it dead-ended on effort, likely an alias.
    I began chuckling, recalling the sight of Teddy walking into the kitchen two hours later after he had left with Martha the previous evening. He was beyond drunk. I knew right then and there, Martha had grabbed liquor from the butler’s pantry on their way down to the poolroom on the lower level. Scotch? Brandy?
    All he said was, “Talk about an ace pool player. She’s a real pro, that Martha, and in more ways than one!” Then he fell over like a dead tree onto the stone floor in front of us.
    Mona and I just stared at each other then looked down at all that muscle, at least two hundred pound’s worth, which was now heavy, dead weight. Martha was nowhere in sight, probably tucked snugly in her bed and wearing a smile.
    “I’ll get a pillow from the couch,” said Mona.
    “I’ll get a throw to cover him,” I replied.
    We left Teddy there, knowing he’d figure it out when he finally came to. I left a nightlight on and Mona pinned a large note to his shirt to remind him where he was with instructions on how to get back to their apartment. Then we both went up to our own beds to think over what to do next.

 
     
    Chapter 8
     
    That Other Morning After Pill: Aspirin
     
    I heard music coming from the kitchen at the other end of the house and grabbed the coffee I was drinking to go find who was up and about. I was dying to talk to Martha to see