Xs, An Allie Armington Mystery Read Online Free PDF

you
stick your neck out for Carolina Montoya? You hardly know—knew
her.”
    “Oh, but I did know Caro—well. I was very fond of
her. She did me a big favor that ultimately saved my career. So, to
my mind, I owe her one. If I can help the police find out who
murdered her, it would mean a lot to me.”
    Greene glances my way, then back at Cliff. “Frankly,
Danes, we don’t have time to get one of our own into The Castle.
I’m crossing a line by taking a chance using a non-Blue but, damn
it, time is running out.
    “Miss Armington may not be a dead ringer for her
sister, but with some help from a makeup artist, I think we can
make it work. And since you didn’t make a trade the first time,
nobody should be the wiser.”
    Cliff ’s face is like putty. “You don’t have a clue
who you’re dealing with.”
    “You’re right. We don’t. That’s why we’ve got to get
in there.” Cliff waves toward Angela. “So she just disappears?”
    Angela flashes one of her famous klieg-light beams.
“There can be only one Angela Armington. One of us has to get out
of here.”
    “She’s right,” I say. “As far as we know, Caro’s
killer hasn’t met Angela. But on the off chance he might come
sniffing around, Angela will be alone.”

Chapter 7
    THE BIG NIGHT HAS ARRIVED. I pace the living room,
glimpsing the new me in the mirror each time I pass. Why didn’t I
think of using a henna rinse before? I’ve always envied Angela’s
auburn hair. It would have been so simple to add a little spice to
my dingy brown.
    I brush one errant strand back in place and inspect
my makeup. Too much blush for my taste, but I have to admit it
looks good. The lipstick, eye shadow and mascara are brighter than
my usual palette, but thanks to a makeup artist, I look a lot more
like the fabulous Angela Armington than anyone would believe.
    Greene looks up from the newspaper he’s thumbed
through. It’s plain he’s as much on edge as I am. “Nervous?”
    “A little.”
    I smooth the waist of my strapless winter-white
velvet sheath, take a deep breath and caress the triple strand
pearl choker circling my neck. Greene got it through some fence he
knows.
    He folds the paper and tosses it to the floor. “The
boys are all set up in the flat downstairs. Be thankful your sister
didn’t rent it out. It’s a perfect setup for surveillance.”
    At least Angela didn’t stow me down there. The
maid’s room looks like heaven compared to that place.
    When the front bell rings, Greene stands and peers
out the window. “It’s Danes. We’re in business.”
    He gathers Angela’s black full-length mink from the
couch. “Look, don’t worry. My sources tell me the illegal stuff is
all conducted upstairs, so I’m sure you’ll be all right. All you
have to do is look and listen.”
    I give into my greatest fear. “What about the trade
at the end of the evening? What do I do then?”
    “From what we’ve learned, that part of the action is
on the up-and-up. As a rule, a trade is prearranged. Avoids
‘double-booking.’ The main goal is to have you make that trade.
Then we’re on our way.
    “If you feel comfortable, ask the new guy in. If
not, don’t. It’s entirely up to you.”
    My heart skips a few beats, then begins to race at
the thought of the unknown—a little scary, but definitely
exciting.
    After Greene helps me into the heavy coat I say, “I
know you have the townhouse bugged, but is there any way I can
contact you if things get tight?”
    “Not to worry. You’ll be well covered once you get
back here.” He points toward the back of the house. “If the evening
starts to go south, we’ll give you a call on the extension in the
kitchen. I suggest you make up a plausible excuse in advance then
go over it in your head a couple of times so you won’t stumble over
the facts. Something like a surprise visit from an old boyfriend
who needs a place to crash.”

Chapter 8
    EVEN THOUGH IT’S PAST SEVEN, the Upper Manhattan
traffic moves