Ms. Simon Says Read Online Free PDF

said, “I heard about your wife, Callahan. My condolences.”
    Mick Callahan’s face, however, hardened to granite as he responded with a terse “Thanks.”
    A wife? Condolences? What was that all about? Shelby was wondering just as Mo turned to her and asked, “You know this guy, Doll?”
    “Sort of,” she said.
    “Hey, Lieutenant,” someone called from across the lobby. “We’re ready to go up to the residence now.”
    “Let’s go,” Callahan said to Shelby. “Take it easy, Morris.”
    “What’s the deal here?” Mo asked, looking from Shelby to the lieutenant and back. “What’s going on? You got some kinda problem I oughta know about, Doll?”
    She didn’t know how to answer, so it was a good thing that her stick-like-glue bodyguard intervened with, “Nah. No problem. Ms. Simon asked the CPD to check the locks in her apartment. Just one of the little civic services we provide when we’re not hassling you and your associates.”
    “Ha ha,” Mo said as his mouth resumed its standard smirk. “You oughta do stand-up, Callahan.” He straightened his tie. “See ya, Doll,” he said to Shelby, then strode to the door.
    “How do you know that guy?” the lieutenant growled, his gaze still trained on the sharkskin suit now exiting the building.
    “I don’t really
know
him. He lives across the hall. How do
you
know him?”
    “I helped put him in jail five years ago. He’s bad news. I’d avoid him if I were you.”
    “I try,” she said with a sigh, and then she gasped. “Oh, my God. You don’t think it’s Mo who’s threatening me, do you?”
    He shook his head. “Guys like Morris Pachinski don’t make threats. If he wanted you dead, you’d already be that way.”
    Shelby didn’t exactly find that a comforting thought. She wanted to ask him about his wife, but when she stood up, Callahan practically rushed her toward the elevator.
    They rode up to the twelfth floor with two men in thickly padded jumpsuits and a black Lab that seemed to really enjoy his job. He licked Shelby’s hand and gazed up at her as if to say,
Some fun, huh?
When she patted his sleek black head, one of the bomb technicians said, “Please don’t distract him, ma’am.”
    As they walked down the hall toward her apartment, Callahan held out his hand. “Keys,” he said.
    “Right.”
    Shelby rummaged through her purse. She had so many doodads on her key chain—a flashlight, a whistle, a mini Etch-A-Sketch—that her keys tended to settle rather quickly to the bottom of her bag. The entourage of bomb guys, bomb dog, and bodyguard stood in front of her door, waiting with that sort of masculine patience that wasn’t really patience at all, but a controlled kind of menace.
    She laughed nervously. “I know they’re in here.” And then her fingers touched metal, and she plucked the heavy key chain from the depths of her bag. No sooner were they out than Callahan grabbed them from her and tossed them to the bomb guy closest to the door.
    “It’s the gold one with the little dab of red nail polish,” Shelby said as she was frantically trying to recall whether or not she’d made her bed this morning, and if there were dirty dishes in the sink, and what was hung up to dry over the shower door. She wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but she usually had time to clean up before company came.
    The officer stuck the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Shelby stepped forward, only to be yanked back.
    “We’ll wait out here while they check it out,” Callahan said.
    “Right.” She’d forgotten again that she was in danger, but surely she’d have noticed any kind of explosive device in her very own apartment. What was in yesterday’s mail? Had she opened everything? Or was there a lethal envelope lurking under this week’s copies of
The New Yorker
and
Ladies’ Home Journal
?
    Callahan was leaning against the wall, gazing down as if studying the pattern of the carpet.
    “I guess there’s a lot of