Nobody Dies in a Casino Read Online Free PDF Page A

or any of my authors up for auction until I know more than one house would be interested. She was an unknown commodity and things just clicked.”
    â€œAnd I’m just a shopworn old frump—is that right?”
    No, you’re just a midlist author. Among book authors, there are four kinds—self-published, prepublished, no longer published, and published. Among the last, there are two—star authors and the vast majority, midlist authors. There is no low-list author. “Of course not, you have published, what—twenty novels in hardcover?”
    â€œAll but one of which is out of print. I’m not even selling paperback rights anymore.”
    â€œThe paperback market has really constricted. I can’t control the marketplace. I mean, it’s not like you’re starving.”
    â€œNo thanks to my agent. It so happens, miss, that I invested large portions of both my late husbands’ estates in the stock market. The marketplace works very well for me except with my writing. I want to know why.” Enlarged knuckles pounded on the menus their waitperson had left and which neither had bothered to open.
    â€œOkay, send me a proposal on the next book and I’ll hand it around to see if I can stir up enough interest for an auction. But I’m warning you—there’s nothing more embarrassing than throwing a party and nobody comes. And Bland and Ripstop is not going to be happy about this. We’re risking a lot here.”
    â€œNo, my dear. We are risking nothing. Because you are fired.”
    *   *   *
    Charlie sat staring at Georgette’s empty chair and martini glass, so stunned she ordered a hamburger with fries and a glass of merlot from the waitperson and didn’t realize she’d been forgetting to look over her shoulder until someone startled her from behind.
    â€œWell, for heaven’s sakes. It’s my partner in crime. May I join you?”
    Charlie hadn’t heard anyone say “for heaven’s sakes” since Father Knows Best on Nick. She’d have minded, but it was the woman in cream and gold. This was the first time Charlie had heard her speak.
    â€œI’m Bradone and I feel like I’ve known you forever.” Her voice fit her perfectly—moderately low, pleasant, mellow, personal.
    â€œI’m Charlie and I—” And I don’t know what to say—“Charlie Greene, and yes, please sit down.” Charlie’d never been fired before. She’d parted with clients, but never like this.
    â€œKnow what?” Bradone put down the menu. That laughter Charlie sensed, barely below the surface. “I’m going to be deliciously naughty and have a hamburger and fries too and a beer.”
    â€œWhy are we partners in crime and how did you know what I’d ordered?”
    â€œOur crime was all that money we won at the other Hilton this morning. I was seated at the table behind you here and overheard your order. And wasn’t that Georgette Millrose who left in such an unseemly huff?” This Bradone—she pronounced it Brad-own —was striking—in her way, almost beautiful. “And I know that because I’ve seen her photos and read several of her books. So there.”
    â€œShe just fired me,” Charlie blurted, knowing better. Then, of course, she had to explain in what capacity she’d been fired and admit to her occupation, which she never did to strangers.
    Charlie tried to cut off her urge to confide.
    Bradone was Bradone McKinley, and when Charlie asked what she did for a living, Bradone McKinley swirled the end of a naughty french fry into a puddle of naughty catsup and laughed out loud before taking a bite. It must be wonderful to be so happy all the time.
    â€œI play blackjack and sometimes baccarat. I travel the world. I read the stars.”
    â€œAre you a card-counter?”
    â€œI’m an astrologer.”
    â€œDid you know it was