Not A Girl Detective Read Online Free PDF Page B

you’ve gotten me curious,” I said. “I thought
    all the original cover art burned up in a fire at the Tandy home.”
    “Oh, this was not a cover, dear,” he said with a laugh.
    Edgar held the painting up about an inch from my
    nose. Looking back at me was none other than blond,
    blue-eyed Grace Horton.
    But she wasn’t wearing red.
    And she wasn’t wearing white.
    Grace Horton—aka the goddess that is Nancy
    Drew—wasn’t wearing anything.
    Except a killer smile.
    4
    What the hell did you do to him?” The voice on the
    other end of the cordless phone blared in my ear.
    “Who is this?” I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes,
    forgetting I had fallen asleep with my contacts in. Mistake. “What time is it?”
    “It’s nine-thirty in the morning! Wake up! Edgar is
    missing! Gone! Vanished!”
    “Mitchell, honey, is that you?”
    “Don’t get smart with me, Ms. Caruso. What did you
    say to him?”
    “Nothing,” I said, heading toward the bathroom for
    my robe. I couldn’t possibly have a conversation with this guy naked. “What are you, his jailer?” Buster nuz-zled my ankle. “I love you,” I murmured.
    “What?”
    “Not you. Listen, he’s probably out walking the dog.”
    “We don’t own a dog. We loathe dogs.” He started
    sneezing.
    “Then he went to Starbucks for coffee.” I needed
    coffee.
    N O T
    A
    G I R L
    D E T E C T I V E
    33
    “Edgar drinks green tea.”
    “Starbucks has green tea.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Maybe he’s sick of green tea. Maybe he wants to
    live dangerously for a change.”
    “For a change?”
    I wasn’t touching that one.
    “Did Edgar give you anything yesterday?” Mitchell
    asked abruptly.
    Interesting question.
    As a matter of fact, Edgar had given me something
    the day before, which had been kind of strange. It
    wasn’t that he seemed the grudging sort—hardly—just
    someone who’d value expedience as highly as generos-
    ity. But I suppose he and I had bonded over the freakish sight of naked Nancy Drew, because as I was leaving
    his house, he’d put something in my hand.
    It was a brand-new, shiny gold key.
    “For you and your girlfriends,” he’d explained. “I
    want you to stay at my house in Palm Springs, for the convention. I want this to be a weekend you’ll never
    forget.”
    The probability of that was increasing hourly.
    “Ms. Caruso, are you there?” Mitchell Honey’s dul-
    cet tones interrupted my train of thought. “Are you listening? I asked you if Edgar gave you anything
    yesterday?”
    I hesitated for just a minute. “No, nothing.”
    “Well, you were the last one to see him.”
    “I left before lunch. How is that possible?”
    “I left before you did—after marinating the chicken,
    which nobody touched, I might add.”
    “Fresh garlic is a must.”
    34
    S U S A N
    K A N D E L
    “Garlic is a deterrent to intimacy. Do you have issues in that area, Ms. Caruso?”
    Nice. “What do you want with me, Mitchell?”
    “When I came back home, sometime around mid-
    night, everybody was out. So I went to bed. When I
    woke up this morning, I was still alone.”
    “Looks like I’m not the only one with intimacy is-
    sues.”
    “I have just about had it with you,” he yelled. “I am calling the police and I am telling them you were the last one to see Edgar before he disappeared.”
    “Fine.”
    “Fine!”
    “You do realize they won’t do anything for twenty-
    four hours.” Just enough coffee for a full pot. But nothing to eat except jam. “He’s not even considered
    missing until then.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “My boyfriend is a cop.” Who claims to be in love
    with me. But talk is cheap.
    “Edgar is a very powerful person. He knows the
    mayor. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to call the mayor.”
    “Don’t you think you might be overreacting a little?”
    I asked, spooning some jam into my mouth with my
    free hand. “What does Jake say?”
    “I don’t know where Jake is