Knock Me Off My Feet Read Online Free PDF

Stanley Oleskiewicz's sausagelike fingers.
    "Oh, thank you, Detective," Marjorie said graciously, motioning to the sitting area. "Shall we all get comfortable?"
    The group chatted casually for several minutes and then Marjorie explained how the Homey Helen office worked. Regular mail was delivered about ten every morning and went directly to her desk, where she sorted it. As managing director of Homey Helen Enterprises, Marjorie ran the office, handled all the fan mail forwarded from the Banner, and conducted research, scheduled public appearances, and generally kept the column going.
    "She's been the backbone of the business since the beginning," Audie said, smiling at Marjorie. "She and my mom were college roommates. They came up with the idea for the column when I was about six."
    Marjorie nodded demurely. "I was the business major and Helen was the English major—I was the brawn and she was the beauty."
    Quinn grinned at Marjorie appreciatively. "I don't know about that," he said, noticing how the fine-boned older woman with pale blue eyes blushed under his compliment.
    "At any rate," Marjorie continued, "we've managed to stumble along quite well this last year, everything considered." She smiled sadly at Audie, and Quinn watched as Audie grabbed the older woman's hand. Marjorie took a breath before she went on.
    "I was quite pleased that Audie decided to keep it going, and I'm sure the sentiment is shared by her millions of readers."
    Audie grinned politely but avoided Quinn's eyes.
    "So you've been the first person to see all the letters, Miss Stoddard?" Stanny-O asked.
    "Yes, although Griffin helps me go through the mail if it's particularly busy. I think he might have found one or two of them, didn't you?"
    Griffin crossed a purple velvet leg over the opposite knee and jiggled his foot nervously.
    "I did," he said, frowning. "How long is it going to take you to find out who's sending these threats? Could it be the same guy that sent the dead flowers last year?"
    "Not long and it could be," Quinn answered. He gave Griffin Nash a careful once-over. The guy's outfit clashed so badly with the decor that Quinn's eyes were watering. The accent was from some Caribbean nation, he thought. The guy seemed agitated.
    "And how long have you been with Audie, Mr. Nash?"
    Griffin suddenly smiled. "I've known her for almost ten years. I've worked for her here since she took over the column, about fourteen months or so."
    "And you are…?"
    "Her friend," Griffin said with irritation. "And Web site manager. I update the page every day and put up the weekly features. I run her interactive chat site and her live on-line appearances. I answer all her E-mail inquiries and send out reminders and greetings to everyone who visits her site. I handle any technical problems."
    "Does that keep you busy?" Quinn was jotting down some notes in a palm-sized notebook.
    "Yes. The Homey Helen site gets thousands of visitors every day, from Milwaukee to Moscow ."
    "Really?" Quinn kept scribbling.
    Unless she was imagining it, Audie detected some kind of subtle tension between Quinn and Griffin , and she sought out Griffin 's eyes. He gave her a nervous smile.
    Audie stood up. "I'll go get the letter."
    "Here, allow me, if you don't mind." Stanny-O stood and walked with Audie to her private office, catching her elbow when she nearly tripped on the thick carpeting. He used a pair of long tweezers to pick up the envelope and carried it to Quinn on the sofa.
    Touching only the edges, Quinn unfolded the note. It was computer-generated, like all the others. He saw immediately that it was printed in a standard font on the kind of generic white paper stocked at any office supply store.
    Quinn scowled. The letter may have looked benign, but the words sure weren't. He read it as Stanny-O leaned over his shoulder:
     
    August 20
     
    Dear Homey Helen:
    I've found that human remains keep longer in the deep freeze if each section is first wrapped in waxed paper, then