Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Disappearing Diva by Gemma Halliday

Author:Gemma Halliday [Rey, Gemma Halliday & Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2018-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

When the door to Tara Tarnowski's tiny row house in the Outer Mission opened forty-five minutes later, I thought Irene had given me the wrong address. The woman in front of me wore a knee-length terry robe and fuzzy pink slippers. Her hair hadn't yet seen a flat iron or hot rollers but was pulled back in a ponytail, with frizzy tendrils haloing her head. The absence of makeup betrayed dark shadows smudging her eyes. Hard to reconcile this mere mortal with Rebecca's glamorous understudy we'd seen onstage.

She sent me a flash of recognition followed immediately by surprise. If she'd answered the door expecting a visitor, she clearly hadn't expected it to be me.

"What do you want?" she asked, glancing around as if checking to see if I'd brought an entourage with me.

"I want to talk to you about last night. Can I come in?"

"No." She stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her.

"Fine. We can chat out here in front of all of your neighbors."

She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not caring about that threat.

"Do you have any idea what happened to me last night?"

She clutched the robe tightly around herself, as if warding off my anger. "Hey, what you do at night is your business. Why would I care?"

"I was attacked."

If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "Sucks for you."

"In the park. Where you were supposed to meet me."

"You should be more careful. We done here?"

"No, we're not. I still have some questions to ask you about Rebecca Lowery."

"Sorry, not interested." She turned to go back into the house, but I sidestepped to the right to block her way.

"Listen, you're going to answer some questions, or I'm going straight to the police station to file an assault charge against you for attacking me last night." It was a total bluff, of course, since I hadn't even seen my attacker, but I was willing to gamble that she didn't want the negative publicity. I knew PS Rossi certainly didn't.

"Assault charge," she repeated. "Are you joking?"

I tightened my lips and squinched my eyes into my best I-am-dead-serious expression. The same expression I used whenever Toby stole food off my plate, only hopefully to better effect.

We stared at each other—well, she stared; I squinted—while I could practically see the do-I-or-don't-I-cooperate battle warring in her eyes.

Finally, she relented with a dramatic huff. "Fine, but I haven't got all day. What do you want to know?"

Gracious in victory, I unsquinched my eyes. "Tell me about Lucky's Deli."

"Don't eat the knockwurst."

I ignored the sarcasm. "So you know it."

She shot me a murderous look. "So I know a deli. So what?"

"It's a deli that sells illegal drugs practically next to the bologna. And you were seen with Rebecca Lowery. Shall I connect the dots, or would you rather do it?"

"I don't do drugs," she said.

"That's not the way it looks from here," I told her.

"I don't know where you get your information," she said with a sniff.

"But

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