Free Every Breath You Take: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 2) by M.K. Gilroy Page B

in her apartment on Chicago’s Gold Coast. Her furniture makes the stuff in Klarissa’s old townhome seem spartan. And Klarissa’s place was never spartan. Don’s wife, Vanessa, the ace realtor who keeps her detective husband happy in expensive shoes and clothes, had an offer on it in less than a week. Klarissa took it. No way was she going to live there again after what happened to her there.
    Barbara’s place is pure luxury from the art on the walls, to the rugs on the floor, to the furniture, to the view of Lake Michigan. A fog is rolling in to match my mood, but it isn’t going to dampen the ambience.
    I’m not sure what’s new and what’s antique but as much as I hate to admit it, it blends together and looks fabulous.
    “Nice place, Barbara,” I say.
    “Call me Bobbie. And yes, Kristen, it will do.”
    I’m not good at guessing ages but I’m thinking she’s fifty years old, give or take a few either way. A very well-preserved and attractive fifty, I would add. Her hair is pulled back and up to show a nice neckline—no wrinkles—and a lot of casual bling disappearing into a low cut that my mom would not approve of and cascading from her ears. I’ve been telling myself I need to upgrade my wardrobe and accessories. She’s not my style but seeing her dressed for success reminds me of that.
    “We’ve got our work cut out for us, Detective Conner,” she says with the same tone you’d use to explain where you want the sewer line to go on an outdoor project to the landscaping guy.
    “Call me Kristen.”
    “I’m so pleased to meet you and work with you, Kristen,” she responds, looking me in the eyes with all the warmth and earnestness possible from a truly caring person or someone who is just good at introductions and first impressions. My antennae are still up from this morning’s meeting with Zaworski and I suspect the latter.
    “Let’s go sit down,” she says. “Something to drink? I have a bottle of white wine chilled.”
    “No, thanks,” I answer.
    “That won’t do,” she says with the hint of a grimace. “In my line of work the answer is always yes.”
    “In my line of work the answer is almost always no,” I respond.
    “And that’s why we are meeting here,” she says. “Because you are about to enter my world.”
    We stare each other down. She is a cool customer. She looks unfazed; maybe slightly amused.
    “Your charming captain said you might be difficult.”
    “No doubt he’s a charmer,” I say with a snort of laughter.
    She looks at me blankly. Apparently Ferguson wasn’t making a joke.
    “I found Captain Zaworski to be very charming. Perhaps I am more attuned to noticing the good in people.”
    “Are you judging me?” I ask.
    “Are you judging me?”
    “I asked first.”
    I’m not sure we are off to a great start.
    Zaworski ordered me to behave myself. He gave me a list of words and phrases I was not to use with Ferguson including prostitution, madame, pimp, escorts, call girls, and words I didn’t know the meaning of. If at some point I needed to acknowledge Ferguson’s role it was that she had been hired by the CPD to serve as a consultant on the Jack Durham murder case.
    “I don’t like her and what she does any better than you, Conner,” he said, “but we got to keep her on our side. You grind on her and she clams up and it isn’t going to help us nail a killer.”
    I get that. Still doesn’t mean I have to like that she is to coach me to pose as one of her escorts to get close to the friends Durham ran around with.
    “How long is this going to go on Sir?” I asked.
    “As long as it takes to catch a murderer—or until the key suspects from Jack Durham’s circle of friends figure out you aren’t legitimate.”
    “First time someone thinks something’s going to happen that isn’t going to happen my cover will be blown, Sir.”
    I wondered if he understood what I was saying.
    “Talk to Barbara. She’ll help you work through all that. They have