Fast Women Read Online Free PDF Page B

woman said.
    "I can make an appointment for you," Nell said brightly. "Unfortunately both our-" Our what? What the hell did they call themselves? Detectives? Operatives? "-partners are out. They could see you on-" She turned to the antique computer on her desk as she spoke and opened the file labeled "Appointments." It was blank. They were both out on jobs right now and the damn page was blank. Who ran this place, anyway? "If I could have your number," Nell finished, even more brightly, "I'll call you when they get in and set up an appointment."
    "It's sort of an emergency." The woman looked doubtfully at the couch and then sat gingerly on the edge of it. "I'm getting a divorce, and my husband is mistreating my dog."
    "What?" Nell leaned forward, propelled by outrage. "That's terrible. Call Animal Control and get-"
    "It's not like that." The woman leaned forward, too, and Nell held her breath that the couch wouldn't tip or break or just give up and fold. "He yells at her all the time and she's very nervous anyway, she's a dachshund, a longhair, and I'm afraid she's going to have a nervous breakdown."
    Nell pictured a longhaired dachshund having a psychotic episode. Just like a man to pick on something that couldn't fight back. "Have you tried Animal Control-"
    "He's not hitting her. There aren't any marks. He just yells all the time, and she's a mess." The woman leaned closer. "Her eyes are just tortured, she's so unhappy. So I want you to rescue her. Get her away from that bastard before he kills her. He lets her out every night at eleven. Somebody could take her then. It would be easy in the dark."
    Nell tried to imagine Gabriel McKenna rescuing a dachshund. Not likely. Riley might, though. He looked as though he'd be up for anything.
    "Let me take your name and number," she told the woman. "One of our partners might be able to help."
    And if they wouldn't, maybe she would. Maybe she'd just go out there and rescue the poor trapped dog from the man who'd promised to take care of it and then just changed his mind. She tried to picture herself creeping into somebody's backyard to steal a dog. It didn't seem like something she'd do.
    "I'll have Riley call you," she said when she'd taken down the woman's name-Deborah Farnsworth-her expensive Dublin address, and her dog-abusing husband's even more expensive New Albany address.
    "Thank you," Deborah Farnsworth said, casting one last dubious glance around the office before she left. "You've been very helpful."
    Gotta get this office fixed. Nell found 3-in-1 oil in the bathroom and oiled the front door, hoping to stop it from sticking, and then did the partners' office doors, too, because the creaks were driving her crazy. Then to distract herself from the neglect and the dog, she went into Gabe McKenna's office and began to clean, dusting off the black-and-white photos on the walls and wiping down dark wood and old leather until the place gleamed from the power of her frustration. She noticed an odd striped pattern to the dust on the bookcases, as if somebody had pulled books off some of the shelves and then shoved them back again. Maybe Gabe McKenna had lost something and had gone looking for it behind his books. God knew, he could have lost damn near anything in that mess.
    Near the wall on the last bookcase, she found an old cassette player and punched Play to hear what he listened to. Bouncy horns blared out followed by an easy, deep voice singing, "You're nobody till somebody loves you." She hit Stop and popped the cassette out. Dean Martin. That figured. That might also explain why his office looked like a set for the Rat Pack. There was even a blue pinstriped jacket hanging on a brass coat rack that also held a slouch hat covered in dust. She dusted off the hat and shook out the coat with an angry snap and then put them both back where they'd been.
    She heard somebody call out, "Hello?" and went back to her desk to find the little blonde from the teashop standing there.
    "I'm