A Billion Little Clues by Westlake Samantha

Author:Westlake, Samantha [Westlake, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-10-09T07:00:00+00:00

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As I headed over to the address of the letter Roman had given me, I tried my hardest to get my scattered thoughts in order. The plan, Melinda! I kept on repeating inside my head. Just stick to the plan!

Trouble was, it was very hard to choose thoughts of motive and murder over thoughts of Roman, totally naked and maybe with some light oil rubbed over his muscles, doing naughty things to me. I could see him standing over me, maybe in some romantic setting with candles and dim red lights, peeling off my clothes as he kissed me. I could see him helping me to strip off his own clothes, until we were both naked. And then he'd slowly sink down, tracing a line of kisses down my body, until his head ended between my legs, that tongue of his flicking out so delicately to touch on all those most intimate places...

I realized that, as I envisioned this, my own legs were twisting together, and I had let a couple little moans slip out of my mouth! The other passengers on the bus hadn't missed this fact, either. And most of them were staring at me, with varying looks of disgust and lecherous desire.

Oh god. This wasn't going well at all.

Fortunately, the shame lasted long enough for me to hear the bus driver call out my stop. I jumped up, nearly falling over with my haste to escape from this situation, and yanked on the stop cord. We skidded up to the bus stop, and I hastily made my exit.

The law offices of Zinner, Charleston, and Howe were on the top floor of a three-story brick building that looked as if it had been around for the last hundred years and would easily survive a hundred more. Even the ivy growing along the corners of the building, clinging to the bricks, looked respectable. And the whole place was immaculately clean, as if a horde of invisible janitors had just swept past the place. This was definitely a law firm exclusively for the rich.

And on the inside of the building, that feeling only grew stronger. The carpet was thick enough beneath my feet to totally muffle my footsteps, and the ceiling was that hammered brass sort of inlay where it looks like the whole thing has been carved out by some ridiculously talented sculptor. It really all came together well to project the message that I did not have enough money to even be standing here.

The receptionist behind the desk on the third floor was a young man, but aside from that minor detail, he might as well have been Eleanor's twin. He had the same super-expensive clothes labels, the same lazy posture, and the same long stare that told me just how badly I failed his judgement call. He also had the high cheekbones and lanky look of a model. Still, he didn't compare to Roman. He looked way too fragile, too flighty.

"Yes?" he finally said to me with a sigh as I approached the desk.

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