Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (famous ebook reader .txt) 📗

here for dinner and saw you across the patio, and so we thought . . . I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”

“Lamar, why are you being impolite?” Lynn snapped before flashing her own radiant smile and sticking out her hand. “Lynn Jordan. I’m a huge fan of yours, Ms. Harmon. When I was a kid watching you on Jack Colt, I begged my mother to take me to her hairdresser’s so I could get the same style that you had on your show!”

“Oh, how sweet!” Poppy cooed.

Lynn caught her husband rolling his eyes and kicked him under the table. Lamar dropped his fork, then, aggravated, scooped up his glass of wine and guzzled what was left of it.

“We’re going to need another bottle,” he murmured.

“Lamar, stop it,” Lynn scolded.

“This is Matt Flowers,” Poppy said to Lynn, who went to shake his hand, but Matt caught it and planted a kiss on it.

Poppy wanted to signal him he was taking it too far, but she had learned a long time ago there was no reeling Matt back in once he was committed to charming any woman, or man for that matter. Luckily Lynn fell for his unabashed gallantry hook, line, and sinker.

Lamar flagged down the waiter and picked up the empty bottle of wine, signaling him to bring another.

Lynn threw him a judgmental look and muttered, “Looks like I will be driving us home tonight.”

Lamar sighed. “Lynn, don’t be fooled. It’s no coincidence that they’re here. Ms. Harmon tends to show up wherever I am when she is in need of information on my cases that she also happens to be investigating.”

“That sounds a bit paranoid to me,” Lynn sniffed. “How does she manage to track you down wherever you are?”

“I don’t know, maybe if you didn’t tell the whole world where we are all the time on Instagram—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Lynn growled.

“How’s the sole? I was thinking of ordering it for my entree,” Matt offered in an unsuccessful bid to break the tension.

There was a long pause.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your dinner,” Poppy said.

Poppy and Matt turned to go.

“Wait,” Lynn said before they left. She glared at her husband. “Why don’t you tell them what you told me during our appetizer course?”

Detective Jordan stared at his wife blankly. “What?”

“About Hal Greenwood,” Lynn sighed, annoyed.

Poppy’s ears instantly pricked up.

She wanted to give Lynn Jordan a big, loving hug, but resisted, keeping her cool so as not to prove too eager to lap up whatever information Jordan had to share.

Lynn sat back in her chair and folded her arms, eyes locked on her husband. “Look, Lamar, it’s not like you’re in competition with the Desert Flowers Agency. What’s wrong with offering a few details if it helps both of you?”

“Because the police are not in the habit of sharing our intelligence and evidence with just anyone—”

Lynn abruptly cut him off. “She’s not just anyone. She’s Poppy Harmon, and she was a role model to me growing up, and from what I have heard recently, she now helps people in need around here so I don’t see what possible harm could come from simply relaying what you know.”

Lamar Jordan dealt with enough drama and misery in his daily line of work, so his utmost priority at home was to keep the peace. And that was about to work to Poppy’s advantage.

“Fine,” Jordan sighed before pivoting around in his chair toward Poppy and Matt. “Hal Greenwood has an alibi for Danika Delgado’s murder. I checked it out. It’s solid.”

“Where was he?” Matt asked.

“One of the production assistants, Tommy . . .”

“Timothy,” Poppy corrected him.

“Yeah, him. He claimed that when Hal Greenwood arrived on the set in Joshua Tree on the day of the murder, he demanded to see Ms. Delgado. Timothy took him to her trailer where she was supposed to be. They knocked a few times but she didn’t answer. So he left. That was before you came around and discovered the body.”

“Yes, we know, but couldn’t Hal have doubled back on his own between the time Timothy escorted him to the trailer and the time Poppy found the body?” Matt asked.

Jordan shook his head. “No, because right after he left Timothy, he jumped on a conference call with the director and producer of another film he has in preproduction. I have phone records and witnesses to back it all up. It would have been impossible for him to sneak back to Danika’s trailer, break in, and suffocate her with that pillow before or after he was on that call.”

“So he didn’t do it,” Poppy murmured. “I was so certain that he was the one. . . .”

“What about Chase Ehrens?” Matt asked somberly.

“Missing,” Jordan said quietly.

“Missing?” Poppy gasped.

“After he posted bail, he up and disappeared. Neither his agent nor his manager have been in contact with him since and his landlord says he hasn’t been back to his apartment in days. I’ve got a couple of my detectives working on locating him but so far no luck.”

“Maybe you should assign Poppy to the task force since she is apparently so good at tracking people down,” Lynn joked.

Detective Jordan failed to see the humor.

“And still no word on Byron Savage?” Poppy asked, frustrated.

“Nope. But don’t worry, we’ll find him eventually.”

Poppy nodded appreciatively, but was truly worried. How would they ever solve Danika Delgado’s murder if the strongest suspects just kept vanishing off the face of the earth?

Chapter 30

I know who killed Danika Delgado.

Parker Hotel. Room 12.

Come ASAP.

Poppy stared at the text on her phone. She recognized the number. It was the one given to her by Fabian Granger when they had exchanged phone numbers at the Mary Pickford. Matt had dropped her off after dinner, and Poppy had barely unlocked the door of her house and stepped inside, exhausted and ready for bed, when she’d received the urgent text from Fabian.

Poppy considered texting back, or calling him, but she knew it was risky. Hal Greenwood’s operatives