A Mint Condition Corpse by Duncan MacMaster

Author:Duncan MacMaster [MacMaster, Duncan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Manuscript Template, Public
Publisher: Fahrenheit Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

"Things have become a little complicated," said Karl Weatherby into his cell phone. "It's good to know that you're aware of my situation, but someone is dead." Having been questioned by the police, his boss Max Cooperman, had popped open the suite's minibar and retired to his room with a handful of overpriced liquor bottles, potato chip bags and candy bars. Weatherby had seen such moods before, but only in situations where his status as a Hollywood player wasn't enough to buy him a pass for one of his epic temper tantrums. The time Cooperman spent in the jaws of his personal black dog never lasted more than a few hours, and then he started broadcasting his rage outward again.

That bought Weatherby a little time to handle some of his more extracurricular duties.

"You want to know where he was after the party?" asked Weatherby. "As far as I know he was in his room either asleep or watching pay-per-view porn... Yes, that's all I know, I'm his assistant, not his babysitter, I can't be by his side twenty-four seven... What? Sure, it probably has something, but I'm not going to risk my ass at this stage to get it... We have to stick with the plan and act like this whole stinking business never happened... Damn, why am I the one who has to tell you how to run a goddamn railroad? ... Okay, we're agreed. I got to go."

Weatherby clicked off and sat down on the plush lounge chair and took a little time to study the lobby's inlaid marble floor, ignoring the conventioneers mingling with the hotel guests and staff. An elegantly sculpted foot appeared on the floor in front of him, clad in an extremely expensive red Prada shoe.

Weatherby tilted his head and his eyes ran up an equally elegantly sculpted leg, then a very short, very black skirt, a tight electric pink t-shirt, baring just enough belly and promising just enough cleavage, and finally a coldly beautiful face framed in blonde locks. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but he knew she was staring right at him, he could feel them drilling right through him like a pair of sharpened icicles.

"Hello Miss Doyle," said Weatherby, not bothering to fake a smile. He didn't let her beauty confuse him the way it did others, he was immunized by cold hard experience with her type, who felt entitled to their entitlements just for showing up looking pretty and not for their talent or work ethic. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to see Cooperman," said Sandra Doyle with a flip of her hair. "There's a way we can save The Vengeance Sisters."

"I know where you're going," said Weatherby as he sat back in the chair. "I've been taking messages from your agent all morning telling me that the show must go on."

"That's one way to put it," said Sandra, "I need to see Cooperman."

"Let me guess," theorized Weatherby, "you think you can take Erica Cross' part?"

"Like you said, the show must get going," said Sandra.

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