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Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

Titel: Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Marilyn Campbell
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through.
    She had never made love in the daytime. She had never made love with a mature, virile male animal, when she could see that every inch she touched was one hundred percent delicious man. At the ripe old age of thirty-nine, Holly could honestly say, she had never made love.
    At six-thirty, while David lay sound asleep, she left the motorhome. She had successfully managed to withhold the first two things he had wanted, but she knew he had scored an overwhelming victory with the third.
    There was no turning back now.
    She would be David Wells's mistress... and he would be her instrument of revenge.

Chapter 12

    "You've got till the count of five to clear out."
    The intern's mouth dropped open. "I'm right in the middle of a paragraph, Mr. Wells. The boss said I could use this desk while you were gone."
    "So, now I'm back, and that's my desk you've buried with shit." He frowned at the overflowing ashtray, crumpled fast-food wrappers, and half a stationery store. "One."
    The young man hesitated long enough to determine that Mr. Wells was sincere about removing him and started gathering up his garbage.
    The five-count passed numerous times before the desk looked somewhat like it did before David had left five days ago. "You forgot this," David said as the squatter was making his exit. He picked up a plain white envelope.
    "Oh, no. That came for you yesterday." He took off before Mr. Wells could ask his name.
    David turned the envelope over and saw his name typed in capital letters on a label in the center. He used the envelope to brush the crumbs off his chair and desk before sitting down. He straightened the desk pad, lined up his calendar, pencil cup and memo pad, then adjusted the computer monitor a fraction of an inch. Good. It was his again.
    It had been a long climb to having things of his own, like a desk and a chair, and the hunger hadn't dissipated yet. He had a toehold but he still needed to do a lot of fancy footwork to secure himself a place at the top of the hill.
    With his teak-handled letter opener, he neatly sliced through the top edge of the envelope. Inside were several typed pages and some loose photographs, but no indication as to who had sent it.
    One sheet of paper contained a brief synopsis of the meteoric rise to success of Jerry Frampton, publisher of Jock magazine. A copy of a clipping from what was probably a sensationalist tabloid was attached to that. It gave some facts about his life and the magazine, and emphasized the rumors of his wild lifestyle. It looked like it had been cut and pasted, as if a few lines had been eliminated between the parts about where he was born and how he put together the first issue of Jock.
    The next photocopied sheets resembled reports prepared by professional investigators or law enforcement personnel, though any identifying marks had been carved out. David scanned the data that gave evidence of a connection between Jerry Frampton and convicted pornographer Mick D'Angelo. It was backed up with D'Angelo's criminal record and a copy of a form signed by Frampton when he once posted bail for D'Angelo.
    The photographs had all been taken very recently, on the same day and at the same time, according to the digital imprint across the bottom. Frampton and D'Angelo were obviously involved in a heated discussion, and a typed cover note stated that the pictures were taken at Frampton's private estate in Boca Raton, Florida.
    The final sheet contained two typed paragraphs. The first suggested that Frampton still had his fingers in D'Angelo's very dirty business. The other was an assurance to Wells that no other reporter had been given this information, but the reason for singling him out as the recipient had been omitted.
    He reread the pages with a critical eye. What could the sender hope to gain? His first guess would be that he wanted to see Jerry Frampton hung out to dry. A disgruntled employee? A jilted lover? By giving the information specifically to a reporter as reputable as himself, that person had to be aware that he would check out the facts before maligning someone's character, particularly a well-known someone.
    What if it was true? What if Jerry Frampton had a little help from the dark side in setting up his magazine? What if he was still involved in child pornography on the side? What if he, David Wells, was the investigative reporter to expose him?
    The "what ifs" balanced out his hesitancy to automatically reject the evidence before him. He already

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