Night Vision Read Online Free PDF Page A

short, dyed red hair and a face that looked like a road map of deep wrinkles. Faye liked to give advice, something she’d no doubt honed over decades of conversations with clients. Cordelia thought she was a hoot, but at the moment, she found her more frustrating than amusing. “Close the door, Faye. Joanna isn’t here yet.”
    Faye took a drag off her cigarette. “Just checking.” She had a deep, whiskey voice, a voice that a Mafia don would have envied.
    â€œYeah, well, Joanna needs some privacy. Remember? We had that little chat about leaving her alone, at least for the first few days.”
    â€œI’m not gonna bother her,” muttered Faye, stepping farther out into the hall, a pissed-off look on her face. “Jeez, you must think everyone in this building is some pathetic star fucker. I’ve met my share of celebrities in my time, you know. I know how to act. Did I ever tell you about the time I gave Debra Winger a haircut?”

    â€œYes,” said Cordelia, trying to sound patient. “Look, I just don’t want people descending on Joanna as soon as she walks in the door. Who she chooses to make friends with is up to her. I’ll be happy to introduce you, but give her a little space, okay? We clear on that?”
    â€œI was just looking. A gal can look, can’t she?”
    â€œHi, Faye,” said Hattie with a shy little wave.
    â€œHi yourself,” replied Faye. Her grin was lopsided. “You’re as cute as a bug, you know that?”
    Hattie’s face puckered. “I’m not a bug!”
    â€œIt’s an expression, Hatts,” said Cordelia, patting her leg. “It just means you’re sweet.” She glanced at Faye. Out of the side of her mouth she whispered, “She’s into a very literal idiom at the moment.”
    Hattie gave a big nod. “Yup. Sweet. Yike strawberries.” Like all true Thorns, she wasn’t plagued by self-doubt.
    â€œRemember what I said. You ever need a babysitter—”
    Cordelia held up a jewel-encrusted hand. “I’ve got you on the list. Between Hattie’s live-in nanny and me, we can usually cover everything, but I’ll keep you in mind.”
    â€œI love little girls. Don’t forget.” Faye fixed her eyes on the floor for a second, blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth, then turned her back to Cordelia. “Yeah. Well. Gotta go. The Price Is Right is on.” She slipped back inside and shut the door.
    Lifting Hattie off her shoulders, Cordelia entered the loft. She wanted to give the place one final look-see just to make sure everything was in order. Fresh linens. Fresh towels. Cordelia had already stocked the kitchen with the bare necessities—fresh-roasted coffee beans from Dunn Bros, a slice of double-cream Brie from Surdyk’s, a loaf of Asiago pepper bread and two baguettes from Turtle Bakery, a dozen organic eggs and a large lump of brown sugar–smoked salmon from the Wedge, a quart of fresh OJ from Lunds, a pint of red pepper mascarpone and an antipasto salad from Broders, and for a treat, a dense, fudgy Finlandia Torte from Taste of Scandinavia. Cordelia figured these, and a few other essentials, were enough to tide Joanna over until morning.

    â€œWhat is this pyace?” Hattie asked reverently. Today, Hattie was dressed in a long black velvet dress and bright pink slippers. At three-and-a-half, she was already a budding Goth—but with a few unresolved color issues.
    â€œThis is where Auntie Joanna is staying,” said Cordelia.
    â€œI yuv this pyace!” exclaimed Hattie, turbocharging over to a rack of cheap colored glass water goblets.
    â€œNo touching, okay?”
    Before she could begin checking out the loft, the phone rang. Rushing into the kitchen, she picked up the receiver. It was a delivery guy downstairs wanting to come up with some flowers. Cordelia buzzed him in. At the same time, out of the corner of