Free Deadly Blessings by Julie Hyzy Page B

the other way whenever we had
someone in our offices who just had to light up to get their story
out. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with second-hand smoke.
Especially not from this broad.
    She slammed the cigarette back into the pack
so hard that it bent and then accompanied the resulting movements
with several well-chosen expletives. Finally, she looked up
again.
    All of a sudden it hit me.
Jane Hathaway. From the old Beverly
Hillbillies show. I watched the reruns as
a kid. Except Mr. Drysdale’s secretary was a much gentler soul. And
much prettier—which wasn’t saying a lot for old Tammy
here.
    “ What?” she asked me, and I
swear, she sneered.
    “ I was just going to ask
you about your experience at the salon,” I lied.
    “ Yeah—and you never
answered my question about when you’re going to need me for
filming.”
    “ To be frank, Ms. Larken,
we haven’t decided yet who will be interviewed on camera and whose
stories will be used as background.”
    “ You mean I drove down the
friggin’ Edens all the way here for this goddamn interview and
you’re telling me that you might not be using my story?”
    “ I won’t know till I hear
it, so why don’t we begin?”
    “ Why the hell should I?
Gabriela told me I’d be on TV and that’s what I came here for. I’m
not about to spend my time with some little peon like you who
doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground.”
    I get these types every so often. Didn’t
expect it today, but hey, my luck had been going downhill
lately.
    I stood up. “You’re absolutely right.”
    That surprised her.
    Continuing, I gestured her to stand up. She
did. “You know what? Gabriela’s filming one of our ad spots right
now, down at the studio. Let me give you the address.”
    I walked over to Jordan’s desk. She was on
the phone, giving me a look I didn’t understand. I grabbed a
Post-it Note and scribbled down the information. “Gabriela’s the
one who’s really in charge here.” That was a lie I’d burn in hell
for. “Take a cab … save the receipt and I’ll see that you’re
reimbursed. When you get there, tell her that we need your story on
tape first, before we do any of the regular filming.”
    Tammy’s eyes showed a touch of interest.
“She can do that?”
    “ When she
wants to. Sometimes she’s a little … what’s the word … persnickety?
But I’m sure you already know that.” I grinned, as though we were
sharing a joke at the star’s expense. “Push her. Hard, if you have
to. She can do it. Don’t let her tell you she can’t. And then tell her to
send the tape to my attention. At her earliest convenience, of
course.”
    Jordan started to mouth something to me, the
receiver still tight to the side of her head.
    I smiled and winked at Tammy, sending her on
her way with a cheerful feeling in my heart.
    Jordan waited till she was out of earshot.
“Here,” she said, her low voice intense. “I think you need to take
this one.”
    I took the receiver, “Alex St. James.”
    “ Oh!” The sounds of a woman
crying met my ear, and my first concern was for Lucy, but within
seconds I knew it wasn’t her. I had no idea who was calling me.
Until she took a breath and spoke to me in Polish. “Alex, I am
Sophie, from yesterday. My brother, Matthew … he’s gone. He’s
missing.”

    Chapter Six

    I made it to Sophie’s address in just over
twenty-five minutes. She lived in a tidy neighborhood on the near
south side, well-known for its enduring Polish population. All the
brick three-flats in this proud five block radius, with their
sparkling white trim and clipped shrubs, were a testament to the
work ethic that the nationality was known for. Despite the overcast
day and the scattered rain clouds that had just finished a
cleansing downpour, it was a welcoming neighborhood, the kind where
I wouldn’t be fearful walking alone at night.
    I found her building right away. There was
no place to park out in front, however, so on my second