Free Private Dancer by Suzanne Forster Page A
Authors: Suzanne Forster
apart.
Bev walked to Lydia’s chair and knelt beside her. “I’ll find him for you,” she promised, taking her client’s hand.
Lydia summoned what was left of her dignity. “Thank you,” she said as the buzzer on Bev’s telephone gave off several quick bursts.
Bev rose and pushed the intercom button. “What is it, Cory?” she asked the agency’s young male receptionist. Cory was actually a student intern who was paying his dues at the front desk, the way all Brewster’s investigators started.
“There’s a man here to see you, B.J. His name is Sam Nichols, and he says it’s urgent.”
Bev glanced heavenward, summoning strength. “Tell him I’m busy, Cory.” She smiled at Mrs. Covington over the receiver.
“He says you’ve got his sunglasses.”
“I do not.”
“He says you took them after you knocked him out yesterday. He wants them back.”
Bev’s heart sank. She’d set his glasses on an end table for safekeeping. Just her luck that she’d forgotten to give them back. She smiled at Mrs. Covington. “Take down his address, Cory. I’ll have them sent back to him.”
“Hey, what did you hit this guy with, B.J.? A sledgehammer? He’s growing an eggplant on his head.”
“His address, Cory.” Bev replaced the receiver and turned to Mrs. Covington. “I’ve already done some preliminary work on your case,” she said, stalling for time. She wanted to make sure Sam Nichols was gone before she walked her client out. “You met your husband on a Mediterranean cruise, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Covington smiled wistfully. “Yes, Arthur swept me off my feet on that cruise. I’ll never forget it.”
“Well, I think I can assure you that Arthur hasn’t been kidnapped. I ran a credit card check and it looks as though he’s booked passage on another cruise in the Caribbean. My plan is to find him and then lure him back to the States. Once I’ve got him here, you can take whatever action you choose.”
“I just want him to explain why he did it,” she said softly, tears welling. She fished a hanky from her purse and blotted her eyes.
Bev felt a wrench at her heart. How could anyone have taken advantage of such a gentle soul? Suddenly Bev wanted to find Arthur Blankenship badly. Find him and make him pay. “You have every right to press charges, you know.”
“Oh, no, please! I don’t want the police involved. Not until I’ve heard Arthur’s side of the story. I’m sure there’s some explanation.”
Like greed, Bev thought, watching the stricken woman tuck her hanky back into her purse. She could feel the bitterness rising in her throat. It was an emotion she’d never fully given vent to after Paul had left her. He hadn’t stolen her money, but he had robbed her of self-esteem, and he’d nearly devastated her sense of herself as a woman.
Men , she thought, crunching down on the word. Her jaw was tight, her smile grim as she met her client’s watery gaze. “You’ve got the right woman for the job, Mrs. Covington.”
Bev returned to her office full of purpose after escorting her client out. The cruise ship left Fort Lauderdale the following evening and Bev planned to be on it. She didn’t have a current photo of Arthur Blankenship. Understandably, he’d avoided having snapshots taken, but Lydia had given her an excellent description. Bev had also checked out the man’s investigative file through her law enforcement contacts. He’d never been convicted of a crime, but complaints had been filed by other heartbroken women whose money he’d invested in questionable deals. Like Lydia, they’d refused to prosecute.
She was sitting at her desk, jotting some last-minute notes, when she heard a rustling sound. As she looked up, the pencil she was using slipped through her fingers, rolled across the desk, and dropped to the floor. “ How did you get in here ?”
Sam Nichols was lounging on the couch where Lydia had been weeping only moments before, his booted foot propped on one
Bev walked to Lydia’s chair and knelt beside her. “I’ll find him for you,” she promised, taking her client’s hand.
Lydia summoned what was left of her dignity. “Thank you,” she said as the buzzer on Bev’s telephone gave off several quick bursts.
Bev rose and pushed the intercom button. “What is it, Cory?” she asked the agency’s young male receptionist. Cory was actually a student intern who was paying his dues at the front desk, the way all Brewster’s investigators started.
“There’s a man here to see you, B.J. His name is Sam Nichols, and he says it’s urgent.”
Bev glanced heavenward, summoning strength. “Tell him I’m busy, Cory.” She smiled at Mrs. Covington over the receiver.
“He says you’ve got his sunglasses.”
“I do not.”
“He says you took them after you knocked him out yesterday. He wants them back.”
Bev’s heart sank. She’d set his glasses on an end table for safekeeping. Just her luck that she’d forgotten to give them back. She smiled at Mrs. Covington. “Take down his address, Cory. I’ll have them sent back to him.”
“Hey, what did you hit this guy with, B.J.? A sledgehammer? He’s growing an eggplant on his head.”
“His address, Cory.” Bev replaced the receiver and turned to Mrs. Covington. “I’ve already done some preliminary work on your case,” she said, stalling for time. She wanted to make sure Sam Nichols was gone before she walked her client out. “You met your husband on a Mediterranean cruise, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Covington smiled wistfully. “Yes, Arthur swept me off my feet on that cruise. I’ll never forget it.”
“Well, I think I can assure you that Arthur hasn’t been kidnapped. I ran a credit card check and it looks as though he’s booked passage on another cruise in the Caribbean. My plan is to find him and then lure him back to the States. Once I’ve got him here, you can take whatever action you choose.”
“I just want him to explain why he did it,” she said softly, tears welling. She fished a hanky from her purse and blotted her eyes.
Bev felt a wrench at her heart. How could anyone have taken advantage of such a gentle soul? Suddenly Bev wanted to find Arthur Blankenship badly. Find him and make him pay. “You have every right to press charges, you know.”
“Oh, no, please! I don’t want the police involved. Not until I’ve heard Arthur’s side of the story. I’m sure there’s some explanation.”
Like greed, Bev thought, watching the stricken woman tuck her hanky back into her purse. She could feel the bitterness rising in her throat. It was an emotion she’d never fully given vent to after Paul had left her. He hadn’t stolen her money, but he had robbed her of self-esteem, and he’d nearly devastated her sense of herself as a woman.
Men , she thought, crunching down on the word. Her jaw was tight, her smile grim as she met her client’s watery gaze. “You’ve got the right woman for the job, Mrs. Covington.”
Bev returned to her office full of purpose after escorting her client out. The cruise ship left Fort Lauderdale the following evening and Bev planned to be on it. She didn’t have a current photo of Arthur Blankenship. Understandably, he’d avoided having snapshots taken, but Lydia had given her an excellent description. Bev had also checked out the man’s investigative file through her law enforcement contacts. He’d never been convicted of a crime, but complaints had been filed by other heartbroken women whose money he’d invested in questionable deals. Like Lydia, they’d refused to prosecute.
She was sitting at her desk, jotting some last-minute notes, when she heard a rustling sound. As she looked up, the pencil she was using slipped through her fingers, rolled across the desk, and dropped to the floor. “ How did you get in here ?”
Sam Nichols was lounging on the couch where Lydia had been weeping only moments before, his booted foot propped on one