Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

as an opportunity to question me about my Hollywood days. Even Will liked to gossip.
    "I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours," I said, leaning over my plate.
    After a slight hesitation, he said, "I don't have any secrets."
    "No? So how do you know Faith?"
    He toyed with his pasta. "Cat, you're unbelievable. I told you—"
    "Okay, I'll drop it. But trust works both ways, Will."
    "What's trust got to do with anything? It's Faith's story to tell, not mine, and I wish you'd respect that."
    "I do. Any stories I have involving celebrities are also their stories, so no more Hollywood gossip from me."
    He grumbled out a half-hearted complaint as he picked up his wine glass and drained it.
    I smiled to myself as I finished my pasta. Will picked the wrong woman to hide something from.
     

CHAPTER 3
     
     
    The four people stepping through their routine on stage looked like something from a couture designer's weirdest fantasies. The two men and two women wore shiny silver bodysuits, silver boots, and silver gloves. Purple antennae bobbed like drunken flies above their heads. I think they were supposed to be aliens, although they could easily have passed for crackheads. The flailing arms and "woo woo" sounds didn't make the distinction any more obvious.
    Jenny, the alien on the far right, waved at me as I entered the concert hall, earning a scowl from the choreographer taking them through their steps. A man and woman sitting in the front row turned round to glare at me, then turned back and watched the rest of the rehearsal. It finished ten minutes later with the aliens performing a boppy song-and-dance number.
    "That's a wrap for today," called the woman down the front. She was about thirty with wild reddish-brown hair that looked like it would be a nightmare on humid days. "Good work, guys. Corey, keep that smile going the whole time. And Jenny, don't get distracted by the audience." Everyone looked at me and I slunk lower into my seat. "Taylor and Angel, you were fabulous. Keep it up." She placed her clipboard under her arm and clapped. The others joined in, so I thought I should too.
    That earned me another scowl from the man in the front row. He was mid-forties, dressed in business attire with graying hair neatly cut and blow waved. When he stood, I saw that he wasn't tall, only about five-eight or so, but he was handsome in a Wall Street kind of way. He turned to the stage and held up his hands like he was about to catch a ball. The petite blonde alien—Angel, presumably—leaned down. He caught her round the waist and lowered her gently to the floor, much like a father would his child.
    Standing beside him, she looked like a child too. About my height—five foot three on a big hair day—she had the whole pixie thing going for her with short hair flicked out at the ends, big blue eyes, delicate rosy lips, and high, sharp cheekbones with a fairy dusting of freckles across her ski-jump nose. She smiled like she barely registered the man's presence, then moved away. He let her go, but didn't look happy about the snub.
    "Cat, you came!" Jenny trotted over to me, her antennae dancing. She bent to hug me and I nearly choked on her overpowering perfume.
    "I wanted to see what all the fuss was about," I said. "Nice costume."
    She did a ballerina twirl. "It's awful, isn't it? Possibly the worst yet, but the kids love shiny things." She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the aisle toward the stage. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the others. You'll love them."
    Apparently "the others" didn't include the choreographer, the crazy-haired lady, or the suited man who I was pretty sure was Frank Karvea. In an earnest discussion about the lighting, the three of them didn't notice us rush past.
    "I really should be talking to Frank," I whispered to Jenny.
    "Talk to him later. He's in a bad mood now. He and Angel are fighting again."
    The old, majestic concert hall seemed all wrong to host four shiny aliens and thousands of screaming