Knock Me Off My Feet Read Online Free PDF Page A

face was wide with wonder now.
    "God. Of course not." Quinn got up from his chair to get coffee just as his phone began to ring. Stanny-O waved him on magnanimously and picked it up, still smiling.
    "District Eighteen, Detective Stacey Quinn's desk, may I help you?"
    "My head still hurts."
    Stanny-O pursed his lips and tried not to snicker. "I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am. Is there something the Chicago Police Department can do for you? We're here to serve and protect."
    "I … uh… " The woman seemed confused. "This isn't Stacey Quinn, is it?"
    "No. It's his partner, Stanley Oleskiewicz, but here he comes right now." He handed Quinn the phone. "I think it's her."
    "Her who?"
    "Horny Helen." Stanny-O doubled over in a laughing attack as Quinn ripped the phone from his hand. Quinn succeeded in shoving his partner off the desk and quickly turned his back to him.
    "This is Quinn."
    "Hi. It's Audie. Was that really your partner?"
    "Unfortunately. How's the goose egg this morning?"
    "Sore. Uh, I got another letter."
    So this was a business call. Quinn had assumed it was going to be social.
    The whole thing had ended rather awkwardly last night—she had refused to get checked out at the emergency room and left him standing in the middle of her building's underground parking garage. Not that he expected her to invite him up, but still…
    "Did you read it?"
    "I just finished reading it. It's awful."
    "We'll be right over."
    "No!" Audie nearly shouted. "Look, I'm sorry, Quinn, but can I just fax it to you? I feel very strange about what happened yesterday and I think you're a very … uh … unusual man, but I'm really not sure we should take this any further because I'm really not interested in—"
    "Fingerprints, Miss Adams."
    "Huh?"
    "I need the original letter so we can look for fingerprints. That's why I wanted to come over."
    The line was silent for a moment.
    "Oh."
    "But we can hash out that other part later." Quinn looked over his shoulder to see Stanny-O finally recovering from his laughing jag. "Are you at your office, Audie?"
    "Yeah."
    "Are your coworkers there?"
    "Yeah, but—"
    "Great. Keep everybody around. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."
    * * *
    Audie's outfit fell somewhere between the proper pink suit jacket and the soccer uniform, Quinn decided. She was wearing a short black skirt and a gray silk blouse. Simple, and simply stunning on her.
    Audie's hair was loose and wavy around her face, and she wore just a hint of a rich shade of lipstick. At the end of her long and shapely legs were pretty clear-polished toes in a pair of black leather sandals.
    She nervously greeted Quinn and his partner at the door.
    "Five my pimply Polish ass," Stanny-O whispered to Quinn as they entered the reception area.
    Quinn and Audie orchestrated the introductions and Marjorie politely offered the detectives coffee.
    Quinn caught Audie's eye and she looked away. He casually examined the place. Like all the other brownstones on
Chestnut Street
near
Michigan Avenue
, this onetime Victorian mansion had been converted into posh offices. It was decorated in subtle mauves and greens, and the furniture was a cheery floral print. A crystal bowl of fresh pink roses sat on a low table. The sunshine poured through a cozy set of bay windows.
    Obviously, it had been the original Homey Helen's office—all over the walls of the reception area were photographs of Audie's mother posing with celebrities. There was Helen Adams with Mother Teresa. Helen Adams with Margaret Thatcher, Nancy Reagan, and Princess Diana.
    In each of the photos, Helen Adams wore pink and looked poised, polished, and perfect.
    Quinn checked out the rest of the place and spied through a set of wide paneled doors what seemed to be Audie's personal office. It was a freakin' mess.
    "Thank you, ma'am," Stanny-O said to Marjorie as she handed him a delicate bone china cup and saucer. "This is a beautiful setup."
    Quinn snickered at the sight of fine china in the grip of