Spying in High Heels Read Online Free PDF

no idea where Richard was, and more likely than not I'd just be leaving more messages on his answering machine that Mr. Nobody would later play for his own personal amusement.
    "Hey, aren't we missing someone?" Faux Dad asked, looking across the table at the empty seat. "Where's Richard?"
    That, as I was about to find out, was the million-dollar question.

Chapter Three
     
     
    Somehow I survived dinner even with Faux Dad getting all googly-eyed at the thought of a new baby and Mom getting all googly-eyed at the thought of shoving twenties in some young stud's G-string. I still wasn't sure which scenario made me more nauseated.
    I took the 405 home, checking the entire way for signs of bad guys, and slowly climbed the flight of stairs to my studio apartment, where I promptly collapsed on my velvet-upholstered futon. I didn't even glance at the EPT. Much. Instead, I called Richard's machine one more time for good measure. I didn't mention that I'd been there earlier or the man with the gun.
    I flipped on Seinfeld and vegged out as Jerry and George tried to come up with a plot about nothing. I fell asleep fully clothed, trying to fight images of black tattoos, shiny silver .38 specials, and my mother holding a bassinet full of pink baby booties.
    The next morning I awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. It appeared I wasn't the only one looking for Richard, which meant I had to step up the search. I was his girlfriend, which theoretically meant I should have the edge, knowing him better than anyone. The trouble was that Richard and I mostly just did couple stuff when we were together—dinner and a movie at the Dome, cruising the Venice boardwalk hand in hand, snuggling under the stars on symphony night at the Hollywood Bowl. Honestly, I didn't really know any of his friends, and now that I was thinking about it, I didn't really know what he did outside of "us" time either. It was a troubling thought.
    I started with the short list of people in Richard's life I did know. Namely, his mother. The only problem was, I didn't know her number, and didn't even know her first name to call information. Chances were good it was back at Richard's condo somewhere, but after the run-in with Mr. Nobody, I wasn't especially looking forward to visiting there again.
    That left Richard's office. I knew he kept a complete address book on his Palm Pilot and another on his computer at work. The only obstacle would be Jasmine. But I was confident I could come up with some way to get around her. The woman had the IQ of a squash.
    So I put on my kick-butt clothes. Black DKNY car-gos, ice-blue baby T, and my prize black two-inch Jimmy Choos with the rhinestone details. Capped it all off with some thick, black eyeliner, I could have doubled for a Bond Girl.
    I parked in the garage and by nine-fifteen I was standing in front of Jasmine's desk pleading my case.
    "I think I left my cell phone in one of the conference rooms last time I was here. Can I go in and get it? Please? I'll just be a minute."
    Predictably Jasmine was enjoying this, her penciled-in eyebrows twitching with amusement. "I'm sorry. But I can't let you go in there."
    "Please? I'd ask Richard, but I can't seem to get a hold of him. Really, I'll be super quick."
    "I'm sorry, but only lawyers and clients are allowed back there," she said, pointing to the frosted doors. "We can't have just anyone roaming around."
    "But I really need that phone," I whined. Jasmine shrugged her shoulders as if to say, tough luck, chickie.
    I pouted, then faked a thoughtful face as I stared at the frosted doors. I paused, counted to three Mississippi, then opened my eyes wide as if I'd had a light-bulb moment. "I know! Jasmine, you could go get it for me."
    She looked doubtful, glancing at her computer screen. Before she could argue the importance of her solitaire game, I rushed on. "Oh please, Jasmine? I really, really need that phone. You'd be doing me such a huge favor. I'd really owe you one."
    She bit her