Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (best classic books .TXT) 📗
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Alarmed by her manner, I clutched my chest while franti- cally scanning the table for an available weapon to defend myself. In three strides she reached our table, and with one long accusing finger pointed it directly at me and said, ``You!''
Cat had scooted her chair a little closer to me as Deirdre approached, and when she started pointing fingers, Cat jumped up and put her small frame directly in front of Deirdre's line of fire.
``Listen here,'' Cat said in her most boardroomlike tone, ``you can get your bony finger out of my sister's face and just go back the way you came or I will call the police and have you arrested . . . again!''
Deirdre, who had been holding my eyes and was clearly undaunted by Cat's protective movements, suddenly snapped them at my sister when she heard mention of the police. Lowering her arm slowly, she said, ``No, that won't be necessary. I just wanted to talk to her for a moment, if that's all right with you?''
Cat eyed Deirdre for a long tense moment and refused to back down, so I gently put my hand on her arm and said, ``Cat, it's okay. I'll talk to her.''
``Fine,'' Cat said dismissively. ``But you'll play nice, Miss Pendleton, agreed?''
``Yeah, yeah.'' Deirdre waved tiredly and took the fourth seat at the table, eyeing our breadbasket hungrily while she was at it.
Cat sat down as well and pulled the basket of bread to the middle of the table a little closer to us as she continued to flash Deirdre a warning look.
``So what do you want?'' I asked, cutting to the chase.
Deirdre looked at me and leaned in close so that we couldn't be overheard. ``You have ruined my career,'' she BLIND SIGHTED 313 said bluntly, her voice hard as iron, ``and for that, you owe me.''
``I don't owe you diddly, Deirdre. I'm not the fraud here; you are,'' I retorted.
``Listen here, missy: I have talent, you know--''
``For misleading people,'' I snapped.
``People want to believe what they want to believe. . . .''
``Oh, cut the crap, Pendleton. Everybody's onto you. You're a phony. All I did was set things right, and I can't understand why you think I did more harm to your career than Celeste did. After all, she had all the proof; I just provided some expertise.''
``Yes, and you did it at my show, Miss Cooper, where people paid to see me, not you. You should have kept your damn mouth shut, because now I can't afford to pay my own rent!''
``So are you gonna kill me now too?'' I snapped, losing all patience and raising my voice.
The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to us as Deirdre eyed me with large, shocked eyes. Finally, after a long, tense moment, Deirdre said, ``I didn't kill her,'' in a voice that had lost all hint of aggression. And then her eyes welled up and tears slid down her cheeks.
Crap. Now I'd done it. ``I know,'' I said after a moment.
``You do?'' she asked, looking up, her eyes pleading as she wiped at her cheeks.
``Yeah,'' I said, squirming uncomfortably.
``But how do you know?'' Deirdre asked.
I tapped my temple in answer, and she said, ``Oh. Of course. Well, then, it's only right that you'll help me.''
``Help you?'' Millicent asked, finally jumping into the conversation.
``I need her to help clear my name,'' Deirdre answered, fully recovering herself and reaching across the table to snatch at a roll before my sister could pull it away.
I was taken by surprise at Deirdre's request, and it was a moment before I could respond. ``Why do you think I can help clear your name?'' I finally asked.
``Because,'' she said, stuffing a small bit of roll into her mouth, ``I didn't kill Celeste, and I need to find out who did before the police collect enough circumstantial evidence 314 Victoria Laurie to pin the murder on me. You've got real talent,'' she said, wagging a finger at me. ``With your abilities and my connec- tions you could go far, you know, and besides, you owe me,'' she said again.
One of my eyebrows arched tightly upward. ``Oh, really?'' I drawled. ``Gee, Deirdre, tempting as that offer sounds, I think I'll pass, because, like I said before, I don't owe you diddly.'' What can I say? This woman got under my skin, and clearing her name suddenly became something I didn't feel like doing.
``Abby . . .'' Cat hissed through the side of her mouth, ``She said she has connections.''
The arched eyebrow came down hard and joined its twin in a look of death that told my sister to clam it. ``Hire a private detective,'' I suggested, turning back to Deirdre. ``I'm sure they're better suited to the task of clearing your name. . . .''
``Didn't you hear me when I said I can't even afford to pay my own rent? How am I supposed to pay for a private detective now that my career is ruined?'' Deirdre asked, putting down the butter knife she'd stolen from Millicent's plate and looking at me honestly for the first time. ``I'm in trouble, Miss Cooper, and if you don't help me I'm going to go to jail for something I swear I didn't do, and a killer will go free.''
Damn . . . why'd she have to appeal to my sense of justice? I sighed heavily and checked in with my intuition to see if I should help her clear her name.
Right side light and airy, my sign for ``yes.''
``Fine,'' I
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