Low Country Liar Read Online Free PDF Page B

stomach was beginning to protest its hunger after skipping breakfast that morning. Mentally she thumbed her nose at the unfinished letter in the typewriter carriage and opened the lower desk drawer where she had put her purse.
    "That's a good idea," she told Drew. "I think I will leave now."
    Later, sitting alone in a booth at a nearby small restaurant crowded with lunch-hour patrons, Lisa stared at the few crumbs left that had been her lunch. She had had time to think while she was eating and she was just beginning to recognize what a very complicated and potentially embarrassing situation she had got into with her lies.
    Drew Rutledge had the folder Lisa wanted to read and he wouldn't return it before tomorrow. Which was too late. That left her with two choices. The first was to go back to the office and tell Slade Blackwell who she really was before he discovered it for himself.
    But how could she possibly explain why she hadn't done it before? Lisa didn't think he had all that great a sense of humor to laugh off her masquerade.
    The second alternative was to continue the deception until she could get her hands on the records concerning her aunt and take the risk of being unmasked before she could succeed. The only way she could do that was by avoiding meeting Slade Blackwell as herself, Lisa Talmadge.
    Considering her aunt had invited him to dinner this evening, that was already impossible. He would recognize her instantly. Then she would have to be the one who did all the explaining instead of the other way around.
    Sighing, Lisa glanced out the restaurant window. The sunlight hit the glass at just the right angle to reflect her own image. Her green eyes focused on the blurred reflection of the green turban on her head. Slade had made a reference to the hat earlier. The idea that had germinated at his mention of it now began to grow.
    In flashback, she remembered the mailman who stopped at the television studio practically every day for the past year. Yet when she had seen him off work in a store without his uniform, she hadn't recognized him.
    The wheels began to turn inside her head. A disguise was the answer, a very subtle disguise. Lisa Talmadge had shoulder-length silver blond hair. Mrs. Ann Eldridge, whose hair had not been seen, thanks to the turban, would have—Lisa thought for an instant—red hair.
    It would be a perfect foil for her fair complexion and green eyes and such a startling contrast to the true color of her pale hair. With luck, Slade Blackwell would never compare the two women.
    Within seconds, Lisa was at the cash register, paying for her meal and inquiring where the closest wig shop was located. She was told a boutique three blocks away carried a small selection. In all it turned out that the shop had no more than a dozen wigs in their inventory. One was red, a shade of flaming orange, cut short, styled in a pixieish bob. Lisa hardly recognized herself when the saleswoman helped her put it on.
    "That's it," she declared, and walked out of the store moments later wearing it, carrying the green turban in her hand. A brighter shade of lipstick glistened on her lips.
    On the way back to the office, Lisa passed a jewelry store and remembered the "Mrs." part of her disguise. She hurried inside and bought the first inexpensive plain gold wedding band she saw. Outside the shop, she slipped off her birthstone and slipped on the wedding band.
    At ten minutes past one she was rushing toward the Blackwell office. Aware that she had taken longer than she should, she crossed her fingers and hoped that she could make it back before Slade Blackwell did.
    After going through all of this, she didn't want to give him cause to dismiss her and have the agency send him someone else. Not when she hadn't accomplished her objective.
    Unfortunately her wish wasn't to be. Approaching the office entrance from the opposite direction was Slade Blackwell. His long strides brought him to the door three steps before Lisa reached