City of Ghosts (A Miranda Corbie Mystery) by Kelli Stanley

Author:Kelli Stanley [Stanley, Kelli]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781250018052
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2014-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

She repeated the words, not understanding them. “Rick’s gone. What do you mean ‘gone’?”

Apologetic voice, useful for bereaved widows and victims of violent crime. “He quit this morning, Miranda. Just up and quit. Didn’t tell us why, didn’t say where he was going, though I figure he was going somewhere because he said something about packing up an old kit bag. Haven’t heard that since the last war, but hell … maybe he just wanted to go fishin’. Maybe he got an offer from the Call-Bulletin or the Chron, I don’t know. We treated Sanders good here, and he didn’t seem angry or anything, but Jesus, he lit out this morning and never looked back. Asked us to cut a check for what he was owed, and that was that. I’m—I’m sorry, Miranda. Maybe try him at his apartment, huh?”

Sophie Tucker and the scratchy Victrola, Ruby Adams at the speakeasy piano, searching, always searching …

She spoke slowly, syllable by syllable. “Sure, Marty. Thanks. Be seeing you.”

“Yeah. Take care, Miranda.”

She hit the switch hook until it clanged in protest and an operator’s tired voice finally came on the line.

“Hotel Empire, please.”

“Hold the line, please. MArket 3400, now ringing.”

The clerk picked it up on the third ring, and Miranda spoke quickly before he could announce himself.

“Rick Sanders, please. He’s month-to-month.”

Affronted and frosty. “One moment, ma’am.”

Rustle and a click and the clerk came back, happy to deliver bad news.

“I’m sorry, Madame, but Mr. Sanders terminated his rental early this morning and left no forwarding add—”

She threw the phone receiver at the cradle and the heavy telephone spilled over on the desk, crashing with a loud clatter and ring-ring-ring of the bell.

Goddamn it.

To the window, to the safe, back to the desk. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, just leave, no word, not letting her know where he was going.

She ran a hand over her forehead, fingers trembling. Fell back into the seat, no comfort in the black leather.

He’d told her why.

Miranda gulped the rest of the stick until the end glowed bright red. Dropped it in the ashtray, letting it burn.

She hit the hook again and dialed the answering service.

“This is Miranda Corbie, EXbrook 3333. Any messages from a Rick or Richard Sanders?”

Static while she waited, foot tapping the floor.

“Yes, Miss Corbie. You have six messages and two of them are from Rick Sanders, one to your home number and one for EXbrook 3333, but don’t worry, they’re the same.”

“Read it, please.”

“‘Car at parking station on 5th and Minna. Packages for you at Monadnock.’”

“Thanks.” Miranda hit the hook again, dialed the mailroom.

“Miranda Corbie, number four twenty-one. I should have packages downstairs. Bring them up immediately.”

She grabbed a bill from her purse and walked to the window, tremor still coursing through her legs and arms. Watched the florists down below by Lotta’s Fountain, pushing dahlias and carnations, tall man in a brown fedora tipping his hat to a woman in pink …

He’d always been there. She remembered how he’d met her at Lotta’s and tried not to look shocked and sick and angry when she told him she worked at Dianne’s.

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