Free A Season for Killing Blondes by Joanne Guidoccio Page B

floor, and groups of files lay on chairs, desks, and cabinets. I wrinkled my nose as I caught whiffs of stale cigarette smoke, French fries, and aftershave. The door to the inner office was closed, but I could hear someone talking in the other room. I knocked tentatively on the door, and a male voice bellowed, “I’m on the phone. Give me a few minutes.”
    One chair had several files on it, so I gathered the files and sat down. As I went to place them on the desk, I noticed the name on the topmost file: Anna May Godfrey. My heart pounded, and my hand trembled. It would be so easy to stuff the file under my jacket and leave. No one had seen me come, and it could be days before the investigator realized the file was missing. I debated the issue for a few more seconds, and as I rose to leave, the door opened, and a short, balding middle-aged man emerged.
    He managed a tight smile and offered his hand. “Hi. Jim Nelson.” He waved his hand. “Sorry about the mess. My receptionist quit last week, and I’ve been manning the office solo since then.” He noticed the files I was holding. “Here, let me take them. Sorry, I had to use all the chairs. I have my own system. I know. Bizarre and unorganized, but it works for me.” He frowned as he glanced at the folders and then placed them on the desk. “What can I do for you, pretty lady? Need to have a special man followed?
    “No, nothing like that. My name is Gilda Greco, and I would like to hire you to conduct a full background and criminal check.”
    “Sounds interesting.”
    “It’s a woman,” I blurted out.
    “That’s fine. You can swing anyway you want. I don’t pass judgment.”
    I tried again. “I want you to investigate Anna May Godfrey. I want to know everything about her personal habits, financial affairs, and any criminal involvement. I think she may be involved in a murder case, and I need to clear up a few questions.”
    “You think she murdered someone?”
    “Yes. And I know you can get that information for me very quickly.”
    “You saw the file.”
    “I didn’t open it.”
    He breathed a sigh of relief.
    “I am assuming that Carrie Ann hired you and was coming over here the other day to pick up this file. I have a strange feeling she didn’t make it here.”
    He shrugged but said nothing.
    “That file incriminates Anna May, and you’re afraid to hand it over to the police.”
    “I’m not afraid of Anna May or anyone else for that matter,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I like living on the edge. As for incriminating Anna May, that is subject to interpretation.”
    “What did you say when the police called the other day?”
    “No one came.”
    “That’s odd.” How could they have missed this office?
    Jim smiled and shook his head. “This office is well hidden, and people tend to forget it exists. That suits me and my clients just fine. We don’t need the exposure.” He raised his eyebrows. “And who would expect a classy interior designer to visit a seedy, rundown investigator’s office?”
    Despite appearances, he was sharp and on the ball. He was not about to volunteer information, but he would co-operate with the police.
    “Thank you for your time, Jim.” I didn’t give him any time to respond. I got into my car and took out my phone. I called the police department and asked for Carlo Fantin’s office.
    He answered after one ring. “Fantin here.”
    “Hello, Carlo. It’s Gilda. I’ve been doing my own investigating—”
    “What! I told you to get a lawyer.”
    “I tried to get a lawyer. I visited Henry Keenan, and I wasn’t impressed. Neither was he.”
    Carlo laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me considering his connection with the Godfreys.”
    “What connection?”
    “You mean you didn’t know that Henry was Anna May’s godfather?”
    I couldn’t help giggling. “Now I know why he was so incensed when I suggested that Anna May might be a suspect in this case.”
    “You did what ?”
    “I’m glad