Death Wears a Beauty Mask and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

Thanks.”
    After Emma left, Mike phoned Executair Airlines. The office was at Kennedy Airport. He was told that Mr. Ambrose would be returning from Chicago late that afternoon and would be in the office until between seven o’clock and seven-thirty. The receptionist was very definite that she knew Mr. Ambrose would want to see Alexandra Saunders’s sister.
    â€œWe’ll be there at seven,” Mike said.
    He went into the guest bedroom. Janice was lying on the bed. As he’d expected, her eyes were swollen with tears. She tried to hide them from him. He sat next to her and put his hand under her chin.
    â€œSomething in your eye?” he asked.
    Her arms went around him as she threw her head on his lap. “Oh, Mike. Something’s happened to Alexandra. You believe it too.”
    He bent down and kissed the back of her neck, then deftly unzipped her dress. Tenderly he massaged her back. “Baby, something’s wrong, that’s for sure. But it may be as simple as the fact that Alexandra took off because she’s not sure about wanting to marry Wilson or that she’s worried that she can’t ever do that repeat commercial to the client’s satisfaction. If we don’t hear from her soon, as I said, we’ll contact the police and report that she is missing. But in the meantime I want to see the guy who has been flying them around. According to Emma, he’s pretty crazy about Alexandra. Maybe he can tell us something. We don’t have to leave for the airport until six-thirty. But right now what you need is a shower and a nap and . . .”
    Janice turned over and looked up at him. She smiled faintly. “And . . .”
    Mike pulled her up. “Guess,” he whispered, his lips against hers.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    They drove to the airport in Alexandra’s blue Lincoln convertible. Mike had talked the garage attendant in the building into letting them have it.
    â€œYou’re very persuasive, Counselor,” Janice said. “I never thought he’d give it to you.” She sat very close to him.
    Mike glanced at her. “You look good,” he said. “I like that dress.”
    Janice looked down at the blue-and-green print. “It is pretty, isn’t it? It’s a Pucci. Alexandra sent it to me for Christmas. She told me she bought the same one for herself.”
    The airport had seemed huge to her that morning. Now, seeing the lines of passengers waiting to check in and the arriving passengers struggling to carry their heavy suitcases, and hearing the recorded announcements of flight arrivals and departures, it seemed to her like the hub of a private universe.
    Mark Ambrose’s unpretentious office was on the second floor of the main terminal. The receptionist at Executair Airlines, a woman perhaps in her late fifties with graying hair, introduced herself as Eleanor Lansing. “Mr. and Mrs. Broad . . . Mr. Ambrose just arrived. I’ll tell him you’re here. I know he’s very anxious to see you.”
    Janice wasn’t sure what she’d expected the owner of Executair Airlines to be like. Whatever her mental image, it didn’t fit the man who strode into the reception room. Marcus Ambrose looked more like a bouncer at a bar than a pilot. His shoulders filled the doorway as he came through it. Reddish brown hair with a tendency to curl lay damp on his forehead. His eyes were dark brown and accentuated by heavy dark eyebrows. Separately, none of his features was outstanding. Together they formed a ruggedly attractive face.
    His gasp was audible as he stared at Janice. His face paled and he came forward quickly. “For a minute . . . I thought . . . You’re so like her. And that dress . . . It’s hers, isn’t it?” He grasped Janice’s arms. “Where is she?”
    â€œTake it easy,” Mike said curtly. “You’re