The Monet Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

publicity for them both. The two of them would look good together on the covers of the magazines. Funny thing was, though, Myrtle’s actual story was a lot more interesting than anything the studio flacks would ever dream up. But they wouldn’t see it that way. For the time being, her virginity had to be restored.
    â€œWhat can I do?” she asked tearfully.
    â€œWell, for starters you can stop crying and wipe your nose. I understand why they’re doing this, and you—we—have no choice. One of the downsides of signing a fat contract is that you’re expected to live up to the terms. And besides, they’re not sending you to Mongolia.”
    â€œNo. Mabilu, I think they said it was. There is a house there.”
    â€œThat’s probably more likely to be ‘Malibu.’ And it’s just a few miles up the coast. There’s no reason why we can’t still see each other. I do have a car, you know.” It was a two-toned cream-and-tan Packard convertible that was my proverbial pride and joy. The leather seats could have come from the Bel Air club. “If anyone gets wind of the fact that we’re meeting now and then, the publicity department could put out the word that I’m a private detective working for you on some mysterious case. That’d be a fireproof story, since anyone checking on it would run into actual facts—something most of the tabloids don’t know what to do with. After all, I really am a private detective.”
    â€œYes. Your hat gives you away.”
    â€œTo say nothing of the trench coat when it rains. All part of the image. People expect it. And remember, private detectives are honor-bound to keep their assignments confidential. So my hanging around may actually suit the fairy tale the studio boys are concocting for you.”
    â€œThey said I’m supposed to be a White Russian princess.”
    â€œI’m not surprised.”
    â€œI don’t like the Russians. They are hairy.”
    â€œWell, they’re fashionable these days, although the Whites less so than the Reds. Sort of like wine. But the story has to play in Middle America, and most of those good people have more sense than to identify with the bolshies.”
    â€œBut I don’t know Russian.”
    â€œDon’t worry. Half the people out here don’t know English, let alone a foreign language. The whole point is to make you seem mysterious; so the less you say about your made-up past, the better. Let the studio hacks speak for you. They’ll know much more about your biography than you will. Ifanyone asks you about yourself, just look sad and say ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’ Or ‘I vant to forget.’”
    She smiled at the absurdity of it all but then grew thoughtful again. She kissed me in a very tender way. She had the softest lips.
    â€œBut what about us?” she asked.
    That touched me and surprised me. She understood, as I did, that things would probably never again be quite the same between us. It was the end of a chapter, and neither of us could predict what the next one would bring. Or even if there would be a next one. It made me sad, which surprised me, so naturally I replied with a joke.
    â€œWell, we’ll always have the Garden of Allah.”
    â€œYou’re making fun again.”
    â€œMaybe a little. But you know I have always been sort of half in love with you, and I think you feel pretty much the same. No?”
    I hoped like hell right then that she didn’t disagree. Otherwise, it was the two of us forever. I’d never be able to resist her if she said no, that in fact she was completely in love with me, especially now that she was on the verge of leaving, wearing no underwear.
    â€œJust half in love?” I asked, just to frame the issue again.
    â€œYes. I think so.” She smiled. She had one eyetooth that was slightly crooked; it was her only imperfection, and I liked it.