Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) by Carolyn Scott Page A
Authors: Carolyn Scott
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see why Angel had fallen for him. He was charming too and could probably sweep a girl off her feet if he said the right things in just the right way. "Don't worry, I wouldn't let a friend of Jenny's invest in anything that would lose money. She's a great girl and I get the feeling you're just like her."
I bet he did. Let's be honest—Jenny thought the stock market was just another shopping mall. Something Frank was probably counting on with me too.
"What are the investments in?" I asked, dialing up the girly tone in my voice. "I mean, have I heard of them? I don't want to give my money to anyone who kills baby seals or anything."
"I wouldn't recommend anything like that to you. I find those sorts of companies abhorrent, don't you?"
I nodded and simpered and when he turned away, I slipped the hotel key I'd retrieved from his pocket into my handbag.
***
I left the restaurant before coffee arrived, claiming I needed to meet up with my boyfriend. It wasn't a lie. Will would be pacing around his lounge room about now, imagining all the nasty situations I could have gotten myself into. It's doubtful that he would have guessed I was sneaking into my target's hotel room. Suite 1201 wasn't the penthouse, but it was definitely huge with two bedrooms, a bathroom the size of my entire apartment, and a supersized TV. Both bedrooms were being used. Angel's things were spread out over the bed in one room, and Frank's suits hung neatly in the wardrobe of the other.
I started my search there, checking through his pockets, the desk drawer, and the nightstand. When I found his suitcase tucked under the bed, I expected it to be empty, but what I found made my heart pump harder. An iPad which I couldn't access without a password, a notepad with illegible messages scrawled across the first two pages, and a stack of bank statements belonging to a company called Karvea Holdings. There was also a letter from Guest and Lieberman, a law firm based in L.A. I was about to read it when I spotted something more interesting at the bottom of the case.
Photos. Three of them to be precise, and all showing two men in what the courts would describe as a lewd act. In all the shots, one man's face was clear: Taylor.
So he was gay. No big deal. I'd guessed as much from his voice and clothes. No straight guy I knew dressed that snappy. It wasn't the nudity or the fact it was two men that intrigued me, it was that Frank had found them interesting enough to have them in the first place. Why?
I didn't get a chance to think about it. The sounds of voices outside the suite sent my pulse racing, and my mind switched focus.
"Where's my damned key?" came Frank's voice.
Crap! I returned the photos and papers and scrambled to the bathroom, partially closing the door but leaving enough of a gap to see through. Frank and Angel entered—she must have had a key—and neither looked like they'd be happy to find a virtual stranger hiding in their bathroom. Somehow I didn't think a lie would get me out of this one, so I stayed hidden.
Frank hung up his jacket in the closet near the front door, and Angel went to the kitchenette. She poured herself a glass of water, which she drank in one gulp. Frank followed her and reached around her shoulders and squeezed her breasts as he kissed her neck.
She pushed him away with a violent sweep of her arm. "Don't! Do you think after the way you treated me tonight that I want you touching me? Forget it."
"Are you still mad about that? Come on, Angel, you know your spending is getting out of hand. I was just—"
"Humiliating me," she finished for him. "In front of everyone. Don't ever do that again, Frank. I mean it."
"Or you'll what? Leave me?" He snorted. "We both know that's not going to happen."
"I don't have to leave you, but I don't have to be a good wife either." She stormed out of the kitchenette and for a heart-stopping moment I thought she would barge into the bathroom.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She stopped in
I bet he did. Let's be honest—Jenny thought the stock market was just another shopping mall. Something Frank was probably counting on with me too.
"What are the investments in?" I asked, dialing up the girly tone in my voice. "I mean, have I heard of them? I don't want to give my money to anyone who kills baby seals or anything."
"I wouldn't recommend anything like that to you. I find those sorts of companies abhorrent, don't you?"
I nodded and simpered and when he turned away, I slipped the hotel key I'd retrieved from his pocket into my handbag.
***
I left the restaurant before coffee arrived, claiming I needed to meet up with my boyfriend. It wasn't a lie. Will would be pacing around his lounge room about now, imagining all the nasty situations I could have gotten myself into. It's doubtful that he would have guessed I was sneaking into my target's hotel room. Suite 1201 wasn't the penthouse, but it was definitely huge with two bedrooms, a bathroom the size of my entire apartment, and a supersized TV. Both bedrooms were being used. Angel's things were spread out over the bed in one room, and Frank's suits hung neatly in the wardrobe of the other.
I started my search there, checking through his pockets, the desk drawer, and the nightstand. When I found his suitcase tucked under the bed, I expected it to be empty, but what I found made my heart pump harder. An iPad which I couldn't access without a password, a notepad with illegible messages scrawled across the first two pages, and a stack of bank statements belonging to a company called Karvea Holdings. There was also a letter from Guest and Lieberman, a law firm based in L.A. I was about to read it when I spotted something more interesting at the bottom of the case.
Photos. Three of them to be precise, and all showing two men in what the courts would describe as a lewd act. In all the shots, one man's face was clear: Taylor.
So he was gay. No big deal. I'd guessed as much from his voice and clothes. No straight guy I knew dressed that snappy. It wasn't the nudity or the fact it was two men that intrigued me, it was that Frank had found them interesting enough to have them in the first place. Why?
I didn't get a chance to think about it. The sounds of voices outside the suite sent my pulse racing, and my mind switched focus.
"Where's my damned key?" came Frank's voice.
Crap! I returned the photos and papers and scrambled to the bathroom, partially closing the door but leaving enough of a gap to see through. Frank and Angel entered—she must have had a key—and neither looked like they'd be happy to find a virtual stranger hiding in their bathroom. Somehow I didn't think a lie would get me out of this one, so I stayed hidden.
Frank hung up his jacket in the closet near the front door, and Angel went to the kitchenette. She poured herself a glass of water, which she drank in one gulp. Frank followed her and reached around her shoulders and squeezed her breasts as he kissed her neck.
She pushed him away with a violent sweep of her arm. "Don't! Do you think after the way you treated me tonight that I want you touching me? Forget it."
"Are you still mad about that? Come on, Angel, you know your spending is getting out of hand. I was just—"
"Humiliating me," she finished for him. "In front of everyone. Don't ever do that again, Frank. I mean it."
"Or you'll what? Leave me?" He snorted. "We both know that's not going to happen."
"I don't have to leave you, but I don't have to be a good wife either." She stormed out of the kitchenette and for a heart-stopping moment I thought she would barge into the bathroom.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She stopped in
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