Duffel Bags And Drownings Read Online Free PDF Page B

because the guys didn’t work for them. I sent her a
     thank-you reply.
    I’d hoped she could give me all the info I needed, but no matter. I was, after all,
     a wannabe-semi-rock-star-detective and knew I could find their contact info somewhere.
    Of course, this would be easier if I had a motive or maybe even some evidence. I was
     in good with Shuman, another LAPD homicide detective, and under normal circumstances
     I wouldn’t hesitate to call him for inside info on the case. But I hadn’t seen Shuman
     in a while—long story.
    I knew there was no way I could pry anything out of Detective Elliston. Dan Grayson
     might be a different story—if he ever came to realize I wasn’t a suspect, which didn’t
     seem likely.
    My office phone rang and I jumped out of my chair.
    What if it was Edie and Priscilla calling me in to fire me?
    What if it was Edie and Priscilla calling me in to assign me a kick-ass event?
    I grabbed the phone and heard, “Are you ready to party?”
    Good grief. It was Mindy, our receptionist. She was a nice enough person but she was
     forever getting things mixed up.
    “Hello? Hello?” Mindy said. “Are you ready to party?”
    “It’s me. Haley,” I said.
    “Oh, jiminy, Haley,” she said. “I hope you’re not calling in sick today.”
    See what I mean?
    “I’m in my office,” I said. “You called me.”
    “I did? Oh, well, okay then, I guess you’re ready to party, all right,” Mindy said,
     and chuckled at her own joke.
    “Did you need something from me?” I asked.
    “What? Oh, yes. There’s a man here to see you,” she said. “His name is—oh, let me
     see what I wrote down. It’s Don Brayman. No. It’s Tom. Yes, Tom somebody. Erickson,
     maybe. Yes, it’s Erickson. Tom Erickson—no, that’s not it.”
    Mindy kept talking but I tuned out. I figured that sooner or later she’d be able to
     read her own handwriting—or I would just get up and walk to one of our interview rooms
     and see for myself who’d come to L.A. Affairs and asked for me specifically.
    “—Dan Grayson.” Mindy’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Yes, it’s definitely Dan Grayson.”
    I lurched out of my chair and slammed down the phone in one smooth Dancing-With-The-Stars
     move.
    Detective Dan Grayson was here? At my office? He’d come to see me?
    Oh my God. Was he going to arrest me?
    No way was I going to stick around and find out.
    I grabbed my handbag and three event portfolios, and charged out of my office and
     down the hallway. I spotted Detective Grayson sitting in the interview room on my
     right. But I didn’t stop, just paused long enough to say, “Sorry, I’m on my way out.”
    I turned on the speed—not easy in four-inch pumps, but luckily I have Mom’s pageant
     legs—and passed the cube farm, the other interview rooms, Mindy’s receptionist desk,
     and went out the door. The elevator was at the end of the hallway. A man was getting
     off.
    “Hold the doors,” I called.
    I might have said that louder than I meant to.
    The guy jumped out of the way as I ran inside. I jabbed the button for the parking
     garage six times.
    Just as the doors slid closed, Dan Grayson charged out of L.A. Affairs.
     

Chapter 4
     
    The elevator doors opened into the ground floor of the parking garage and—yikes!—there
     stood Dan Grayson. Oh my God, he’d run down the stairs and beat me here.
    Wow, how hot was that?
    He wasn’t even breathing hard. I was—but that was only because I was afraid he’d arrest
     me. I swear.
    “I need to talk to you, Miss Randolph,” he said.
    He was using his serious-cop voice. It was totally hot.
    “Detective Grayson?” I asked, and squinted—yes, I actually did that—as if I didn’t
     recognize him. “Was that you upstairs?”
    He walked closer—wow, he was really tall—and gave me an are-you-kidding-me look.
    I was in too deep to back out now.
    “I don’t usually see walk-ins. Next time you should make an appointment.”
    “I don’t