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Authors: Amanda Matetsky
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eight, and which one for eleven?”
“They’re listed in order,” she explained. “The first man was Virginia’s first client, and the second, as you might surmise, was her second. The last man on the list also called for a date with her that evening, but I had to put him off. I never ask any of my girls to accept more than two engagements in one night.” Sabrina struck a staunch pose and held her head high, obviously proud of her strong personal principles.
Jeez Louise! Is she ever going to give me the damn list?
“Hand it over, Sabrina!” I demanded, stretching my arm and open palm in her direction. “Give me the envelope. I’ve got to get back to the office right now.”
With a deep frown and loud sigh of surrender, she relinquished the list to my feverish grasp. “Don’t forget, Paige. You have given me your solemn promise. You will not share this information with anybody.”
“I get the message already!” I fumed. “How many times do you have to say it?”
“As many times as it takes for the message to sink in. All three of the clients on this list are very important, well-respected men. And that’s why I have to be so careful—why I have to do everything in my power to protect them. Do you understand?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“But what? You believe they deserve to have their lives and reputations destroyed? You think all three should be punished for their sins whether one of them turns out to be a murderer or not?”
“Well, no, I just—”
“And what if one of them is the killer?” she barreled on. “How much do you think my life would be worth if he thought I wouldn’t keep his relationship with Virginia confidential?”
My head was spinning with the awful magnitude of it all. So many secrets to keep. So many reputations and careers and families in jeopardy. So many lies to tell. So many lives at stake—including, perhaps, my own. I could lose my job, too, if I didn’t get my tail back to the office!
“I’ve got to go, Sabrina!” I sputtered, staggered by the time shown on her silver desk clock. I spun around and headed for the door, grabbing my purse off the couch en route. “But I still have to talk to you about this!” I cried, pulling to a stop near the door and thrusting the lavender envelope in the air. “Can I call you tonight when I get home, after I’ve had a chance to read and study your notes?” And after I’ve had about six glasses of Chianti?
“Call me anytime—night or day. My private number is Gramercy 5-6003. I’ve written it down for you on the second page. Right under the information about Melody.”
“Melody?” I croaked, folding the envelope and stuffing it down into the bottom of my purse. “Who is that? One of Virginia’s girlfriends?”
“Melody was Virginia’s professional name,” Sabrina said, “the one she used when she was working for me. Her clients knew her only as Melody. They were never told her real name. That’s one of my strictest, most important measures of protection. All of my girls have pseudonyms.”
“Do you have one, too?”
“Of course.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Sabrina Stanhope,” she said, smiling again.
Chapter 6
CHARLOTTE WAS WAITING FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE hall. (How the heck did she know I was leaving? Did Sabrina ring a hidden buzzer, or something?) She helped me into my jacket, returned my hat, and gracefully opened the front door.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” I said, slapping my beret on my head and charging into the hallway. I wanted to stop and talk to her for a few minutes (i.e., ask her a few probing questions), but I didn’t have time. It was 2:45! I wouldn’t get back to the office until after three. If Mr. Crockett didn’t give me the axe, Crown Prince Pomeroy surely would.
The uptown subway was abnormally crowded (was B. Altman’s having its annual girdle and corset sale?), so I didn’t take a seat. I just clung to a strap near the door, clutching my purse (and the crucial
“They’re listed in order,” she explained. “The first man was Virginia’s first client, and the second, as you might surmise, was her second. The last man on the list also called for a date with her that evening, but I had to put him off. I never ask any of my girls to accept more than two engagements in one night.” Sabrina struck a staunch pose and held her head high, obviously proud of her strong personal principles.
Jeez Louise! Is she ever going to give me the damn list?
“Hand it over, Sabrina!” I demanded, stretching my arm and open palm in her direction. “Give me the envelope. I’ve got to get back to the office right now.”
With a deep frown and loud sigh of surrender, she relinquished the list to my feverish grasp. “Don’t forget, Paige. You have given me your solemn promise. You will not share this information with anybody.”
“I get the message already!” I fumed. “How many times do you have to say it?”
“As many times as it takes for the message to sink in. All three of the clients on this list are very important, well-respected men. And that’s why I have to be so careful—why I have to do everything in my power to protect them. Do you understand?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“But what? You believe they deserve to have their lives and reputations destroyed? You think all three should be punished for their sins whether one of them turns out to be a murderer or not?”
“Well, no, I just—”
“And what if one of them is the killer?” she barreled on. “How much do you think my life would be worth if he thought I wouldn’t keep his relationship with Virginia confidential?”
My head was spinning with the awful magnitude of it all. So many secrets to keep. So many reputations and careers and families in jeopardy. So many lies to tell. So many lives at stake—including, perhaps, my own. I could lose my job, too, if I didn’t get my tail back to the office!
“I’ve got to go, Sabrina!” I sputtered, staggered by the time shown on her silver desk clock. I spun around and headed for the door, grabbing my purse off the couch en route. “But I still have to talk to you about this!” I cried, pulling to a stop near the door and thrusting the lavender envelope in the air. “Can I call you tonight when I get home, after I’ve had a chance to read and study your notes?” And after I’ve had about six glasses of Chianti?
“Call me anytime—night or day. My private number is Gramercy 5-6003. I’ve written it down for you on the second page. Right under the information about Melody.”
“Melody?” I croaked, folding the envelope and stuffing it down into the bottom of my purse. “Who is that? One of Virginia’s girlfriends?”
“Melody was Virginia’s professional name,” Sabrina said, “the one she used when she was working for me. Her clients knew her only as Melody. They were never told her real name. That’s one of my strictest, most important measures of protection. All of my girls have pseudonyms.”
“Do you have one, too?”
“Of course.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Sabrina Stanhope,” she said, smiling again.
Chapter 6
CHARLOTTE WAS WAITING FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE hall. (How the heck did she know I was leaving? Did Sabrina ring a hidden buzzer, or something?) She helped me into my jacket, returned my hat, and gracefully opened the front door.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” I said, slapping my beret on my head and charging into the hallway. I wanted to stop and talk to her for a few minutes (i.e., ask her a few probing questions), but I didn’t have time. It was 2:45! I wouldn’t get back to the office until after three. If Mr. Crockett didn’t give me the axe, Crown Prince Pomeroy surely would.
The uptown subway was abnormally crowded (was B. Altman’s having its annual girdle and corset sale?), so I didn’t take a seat. I just clung to a strap near the door, clutching my purse (and the crucial
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