Melissa Bourbon Ramirez - Lola Cruz 01 - Living the Vida Lola Read Online Free PDF Page B

right—”
    “Maybe.”
    “Maybe?” He had to be kidding.
    He handed me Emily’s journal, and I clutched it protectively. “Make a copy,” he said. “I’ll need to turn the original over to the police.”
    I stood rooted to the spot, my heart pounding. Whether it was from Manny’s disapproval or from the run-in with Sadie, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I didn’t like the feeling.
    I went back to the conference table, finished cleaning up the tofu mess, and spent the next forty-five minutes photocopying Emily’s spiral journal in the tiny back workroom. Maybe I didn’t owe that much thanks to Jack Callaghan after all. At least not today. Today there was no glamour in being a PI.
    Manny came in just as I pressed COPY for the last time. He stood back and waited while I used our massive stapler to secure the copied pile of sheets before handing him the original notebook.
    “Come into my office,” he said.
    I followed him, regretting that I’d called Sadie a bitch. I hated being reprimanded. I focused on his slight limp and wondered, not for the first time, what had caused it. The unsolved mysteries around this place were monumental—and growing.
    “What’s your first impression of the case?” he asked when we were in his office.
    I breathed a relieved sigh. This was check-for-understanding time. I forgot about Sadie. A few minutes later, I’d finished telling him about Emily’s last residence. “I left a message on thelandlord’s voice mail. He’s a lawyer,” I added. “And there’s a, um, newspaper reporter I need to contact.”
    Manny gave a final succinct nod with just the hint of a smile pulling up one side of his lips. “Keep your reports up to date, and document your time for billing. And keep me posted,” he added as I stood up.
    It wasn’t even close to unqualified praise, but an approving nod from Manny was huge—the equivalent of a normal boss saying, “Superb! Fantastic job! Keep up the good work!” I took it happily. My goal in life, at least occasionally, was to get him to praise me fully.
    I spent the next hour marking key words and phrases from my copy of Emily’s notebook with a bright pink highlighter.
     
    • call A
    • ask about regulations
    • zoo with S—call to arrange
    • my lie
    • Just Because
     
    None of it made much sense, but I committed every name I came across to memory, jotting them down in my own notebook just in case my brain failed. I knew clues would unravel as I investigated and Emily’s story would start to piece together, but right now I had a bad feeling. Question after question zoomed into my mind—like a damn popcorn maker going wacky.
• Who are these people Emily wrote about in her book?
    • Is she a committed mother, or did she abandon her youngest son?
    • What do Emily’s other kids, Garrett and Allison, think happened to their mother?
    • Where and who is the father of the kids?
    • Why oh why did Jack Callaghan have to be part of this?
    Ugh. Too much to think about and not enough functioning gray matter. My mind drifted to the photos of Jack that were tucked safely in my dresser drawer. My body suddenly tingled, and heat rose to my cheeks. I’d seen him naked fifteen years ago, and suddenly that image was plastered in my mind. Too bad for me and my pent-up desire. If he looked anything like the photos I had of him, I was sure his bed was rarely empty.
    I went from hot to cold in two seconds flat. My bed was
always
empty. Only my boxer, Salsa, kept me warm, and I didn’t really love it when she wanted on my bed. I pretty firmly believed that a dog does not take the place of a man.
    The wall clock ticked in time with the pounding in my head. I glanced over—six-twenty. Already? I could see Manny hunkered down in front of his computer, no end in sight to his evening. Was he going home alone? And where was home, anyway? Did he and Lara Croft share a tomb together somewhere?
    I frowned.
I
was going home alone—to the flat above my