Myron pressed a button, anything to get off this revolving tape. The phone rang ten times-Christ, they knew how to stretch the time-before he heard another female voice say, “Hi, there. How are you today?”
Her voice was exactly what Myron had expected. Low and husky.
“Uh, hi,” Myron fumbled. “Look, I’d like-”
“What’s your name, honey?” she asked.
“Myron.” He slapped his forehead and held back a profanity. Had he really been stupid enough to use his real name?
“Mmmmm, Myron,” she said as if testing it out. “I like that name. It’s so sexy.”
“Yeah, well, thanks-”
“My name is Tawny.”
Tawny. Sure.
“How did you get my number, Myron?”
“I saw it in a magazine.”
“What magazine, Myron?”
The constant use of his name was beginning to unnerve him.
“Oooo. I like that magazine. It makes me so, you know.”
A way with words. “Listen, uh, Tawny, I’d like to ask you about your ad.”
“Myron?”
“Yes.”
“I love your voice. You sound really hot. Do you want to know what I look like?”
“No, not real-”
“I have brown eyes. I have long brown hair, kinda wavy. I’m five-six. And I’m a 36-24-36. C cup. Sometimes a D.”
“You must be very proud but-”
“What do you like to do, Myron?”
“Do?”
“For fun.”
“Look, Tawny, you seem very nice, really, but can I talk to the girl in the ad?”
“I am the girl in the ad,” she said.
“No, I mean, the girl whose picture is in the magazine on top of this phone number.”
“That’s me, Myron. I’m that girl.”
“The girl in the photo is a blonde with blue eyes,” Myron said. “You said you had brown eyes and brown hair.”
Win gave him a thumbs-up, scoring one for the detailed eye of Myron Bolitar, ace investigator.
“Did I say that?” Tawny asked. “I meant blonde with blue eyes.”
“I need to talk to the girl in the ad. It’s very important.”
Her voice went down another octave. “I’m better, Myron. I’m the best.”
“I don’t doubt that, Tawny. You sound very professional. But right now I need to talk to the girl in the ad.”
“She’s not here, Myron.”
“When will she be back?”
“I’m not sure, Myron. But just sit back and relax. We’re going to have fun-”
“I don’t want to be rude, but I’m really not interested. Can I talk to your boss?”
“My boss?”
“Yes.”
Her tone was different now. More matter-of-fact. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m serious. Please put your boss on.”
“Okay, then,” she said. “Hold on a second.”
A minute passed. Then two. Win said, “She’s not coming back. She’s just going to see how long the chump will stay on the line and pour dollars down her pants.”
“I don’t think so,” Myron said. “She liked my voice, said I sounded hot.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize. Probably the first time she’s ever said that.”
“My thinking exactly.” A few minutes later Myron put the receiver back in its cradle. “How long was I on for?”
Win looked at his watch. “Twenty-three minutes.” He grabbed a calculator. “Twenty-three minutes times three ninety-nine per minute.” He punched in the numbers. “That call cost you ninety-one dollars and seventy-seven cents.”
“A rare bargain,” Myron said. “You want to hear something weird? She never said anything dirty.”
“What?”
“The girl on the phone. She never said anything dirty.”
“And you’re disappointed.”
“Don’t you find that a bit strange?”
Win shrugged, skimming through the magazine. “Have you looked through this at all?”
“No.”
“Half the pages are advertisements for sex phones. This is clearly big business.”
“Safe sex,” Myron said. “The safest.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” Win called out.
Esperanza opened the door. “Call for you. Otto Burke.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
She nodded and left.
“I have some time on my hands,” Win said. “I’ll try to find out who placed the ad. We’ll also need a sample of Kathy Culver’s handwriting for comparison.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with.”
Win resteepled his hands, bouncing the fingertips gently against one another. “You do realize,” he began, “that this photograph probably means nothing. Chances are there is a very simple explanation for all this.”
“Maybe,” Myron agreed, rising from his chair. He had been telling himself the same thing for the past two hours. He no longer believed it.
“Myron?”
“What?”
“You don’t think it was a coincidence-Jessica being in the bar downstairs, I mean.”
“No,” Myron said. “I guess I don’t.”
Win nodded. “Be careful,” he said. “A word to the wise.”
Chapter 4
Damn him.
Jessica Culver sat in her family’s kitchen, in the very seat she had sat in innumerable times as a child.
She should have known better. She should have thought it through, should have come prepared for any occurrence. But what had she done instead? She had gotten nervous. She had hesitated. She had stopped for a drink in the bar below his office.
Stupid, stupid.
But that wasn’t all. He had surprised her, and she had panicked.
Why?
She should have told Myron the truth. She should have told him in a plain unemotional voice the real reason she was there. But she hadn’t. She had been drinking unaware, and suddenly he had appeared, looking so handsome and yet so hurt and-
