Celeste Files: Unlocked by Kristine Mason

Author:Kristine Mason [Mason, Kristine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 24821088
Publisher: Kristine Mason
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

GEORGE LANDRY’S OFFICE was located on Davis Street in Evanston, Illinois, a short thirty-minute drive from Celeste’s Lincoln Park condo. She parked her Jeep at a meter in front of the three-story office building. After feeding the meter, she stepped onto the sidewalk and moved toward the dark-blue awning branded with the building’s street address and leading toward the second and third floor offices. Off the street level, a salon, along with a cell phone store, occupied the first floor of the charming, 1930s building.

Celeste entered and took the stairs to the third floor, where George had said his office was located. When she found a door labeled in brass with the numbers 303, she knocked. A knot of nerves twisted in the pit of her stomach. She hoped to God George would listen to her and accept what she had to tell him. She prayed he’d help her find Tracy. Although she had the woman’s name and, based on her phone number, knew she lived in or around the Milwaukee area, she’d rather have George make the trip to Wisconsin with her. Since George had helped Sandra find Tracy, he would have her address. And if she was wrong and Tracy was alive, Tracy would likely listen to the private investigator over a psychic stranger.

The doorknob turned and she took a step back as a tall man with silver hair cut in a severe crew cut filled the doorframe. “Celeste Kain?” he asked.

She held out her hand. “Good morning. Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Landry.”

His handshake was warm and firm as he widened the door and invited her inside the cozy one-room office. “Please, call me George,” he said, then tapped the chair in front of a dark wooden desk that took up a large part of the room. “Have a seat and tell me why you’re interested in hiring a PI.”

She sat and placed her purse in her lap. “I’m not looking to hire you, I’m interested in a case you worked on for Sandra Welsh.”

“Then I’m afraid you wasted your time coming here.” George sat behind the desk, his dark brows tugging together. “If you want to know about that, you’ll have to ask Sandra. What I do for my clients is confidential.”

“Sandra’s dead.”

Sadness softened his face as he glanced to the calendar hanging on the wall. “She thought she had more time.”

“She did.” Celeste drew in a breath. “Someone murdered her.”

George quickly leaned forward, his brown eyes wide, his jaw hardening. “How? Have the police found her killer?”

Oh, boy. He’s so not going to believe me.

“The police aren’t looking.”

“I worked Homicide for twelve years.” He reached for the cell phone on the desk. “I’ll make a few calls and find out what—”

“George, they don’t know she’s been murdered. But I do.”

He dropped his hand next to the phone and narrowed his eyes. “Did you kill her?”

She jerked back. “God, no. It looked like she committed suicide by overdosing on morphine.”

Shaking his head he leaned back in his chair.

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