Free Ride a Painted Pony (Superromance) by Carolyn McSparren

thumbed carefully through the book. Unlike the date books that Mel demanded she keep, this one held only unprinted pages. Clara had written down dates, times, appointments as she needed them. Only about a dozen pages had been used.
    “We got time to take this to a copier?” Nick asked.
    “No need,” Taylor said. She brought up a small camera from behind her seat. “Just point and shoot.”
    “We got enough light?”
    “Absolutely. At least, I think so.”
    Nick Kendall laid the book on the seat between them, then held her flashlight so that she could take pictures of the pages. She took several of each sheet.
    Nick looked at his watch. “Let’s get this thing back. It’s getting late.”
    “Right.” Taylor replaced everything in Clara’s car and climbed in. “See you back at Union and Second.”
    She returned the car to valet parking. Nick picked her up in her truck, then they drove back to Mud Island so that he could collect Max’s Lexus.
    “Okay,” Taylor said as she moved into the driver’s seat. “Musical cars is over for now. I’ll drop this film off and meet you at Rounders.”
     
    BOTH PULLED UP IN FRONT of Rounders at nine. Only then did Taylor realize she’d had no breakfast and was ravenously hungry.
    “At least we beat the police,” Nick said as he opened the front door.
    “And the reporters. Whoever was on the crime desk last night dropped the ball, for which you can be eternally grateful. Reporters can be insensitive monsters.”
    She sounded bitter. Nick wondered when she’d run afoul of reporters, and made a mental note to ask Mel Borman the next time he spoke to the man. Vollmer would know, but Nick wouldn’t lower himself to ask Vollmer what century they were in.
    “Is there an area they might have missed last night? In the storeroom, I mean?” Taylor asked.
    “Why?”
    “I need to get this valet parking stub back.”
    “There’s yellow police tape across the storeroom doors and the loading dock.”
    “Damn! I should have thought of that.” Taylor sighed and turned to him. “Any bright ideas? I can’t withhold the dam thing, and I certainly don’t want to hand it over to Vollmer and tell him where I found it—if I can avoid it.”
    “Come on.” Kendall walked down the alleyway beside Rounders. The sick-sweet scent of rotting vegetation from the vacant lots mingled with the acid smell of rat droppings, and raised Taylor’s gorge. She avoided the puddles, wishing she’d stopped to change her good boots for her running shoes. Kendall forged ahead with casual familiarity.
    Around the corner of the building, Taylor got her first look at the loading dock. Concrete, set at the height of an open truck bed. The freight elevator was closed by a steel door with a handle at its base. A heavy steel padlock latched handle to haft. Beside it, another smaller steel door probably led to the back stairs.
    Taylor shivered and hugged herself. She visualized Clara Eberhardt walking up those stairs or climbing into that elevator, unaware that she had only a few moments to live.
    Here, too, the police had strung yellow tape, effectively blocking both entrances.
    “Damn,” Taylor said. “If we just drop it out here, the wind could blow it away before they find it.”
    “Nope. I can slide it under the door. See? Doesn’t quite meet at the bottom. Helps to have long arms.”
    “Don’t leave fingerprints,” Taylor cautioned. “I wiped mine off last night”
    Nick stared at it. “How’d you manage to keep the original stub?”
    “Told the man I needed it for my expense account. He gave it to me.”
    “He’ll remember you. Maybe we should have gotten someone else to pick up the car.”
    “Let’s hope he’s off duty when the cops show up.” She shrugged. “If I have to tell Danny, I will. I’ll keep you out of it. He’s already suspicious of you as it is.”
    Nick slid the stub under the door. “That’ll have to do.”
    “Right. Let’s get around to the front and inside