Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

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    “Voila!”
    When Lily appeared, she took my breath away. The dress poured over her body like a river of silk, with sequins furnishing glints of light as she moved. It fit her like a glove, leaving nothing to the imagination and yet tantalizing with hints of what lay underneath. Long sleeves made the dramatic plunge of the neckline even more exciting. Bronze sequins were artfully placed to follow the curves of her perfect figure and clung to her body down to the knee, where the skirt fanned out in ruffles that flowed like water around her feet when she took a step.
    “Magnifique, Madame,” Celestine murmured, her eyes shining with pride and her hands clasped in satisfaction as one who has excelled in her chosen vocation.
    I would have thought the bronze might have washed Lily out, but instead it was the perfect shade to set off her creamy skin, and the sheen brought out the gold tones in her red hair. She looked like a tall flute of champagne, effervescent, bubbly, and expensive.
    Lily smiled at me. “You may close your mouth, Grey. I’ll take your silence as a compliment.”
    “You—you sure can,” I stammered.

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    CATT FORD

    Celestine pulled the pins out of Lily’s hair, ruffling the curls and quickly putting it up again in a totally different style, with curls artlessly cascading from a topknot. I was beginning to see that she had her uses. “What jewels, Madame?”
    I was glad Lily was being given a say in her own appearance, but I spoke up. “Only that chain and locket for the necklace.”
    “And my diamond drop earrings,” Lily said. She poked a foot out under the skirt, and I could see a gold, strappy high heel. “Perhaps a bracelet or two.”
    “Or three,” I said.
    Lily smiled to acknowledge the hit.
    Or it may have been how I looked in my new tux. There are advantages to having money. She’d had someone bring over a selection from the store, and I tried them on in the comfort of her guest room, where no one had to listen to my occasional grunt of pain. Lily seemed pretty used to sizing up a man, in many different ways. Or maybe she snuck a peek at the label in my suit when I was asleep, but I looked almost as good as her in my penguin suit. She even tied my bow tie for me. With flair .

    WHEN it was time to leave for the party, Lily gave my heap the evil eye and called for George. For the first time, I was embarrassed by my car. I also didn’t want her buying me a new one of those; first the tie, then the tux; who knew where it would end? She’d already paid me for the job; these were extras. I didn’t like owing.
    She didn’t offer, though. While we waited for George to bring her limo around, she gave me a quick lesson in fur wrangling, so I wouldn’t drop her stole when we got to the party.
    I wasn’t sure if the butterflies jumping in my stomach were for the fact that I was going to a private party at the richest casino in Vegas or because we were going to confront a killer. Despite Lily’s flirtatious Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    173

    demeanor, I had a feeling I had the best moll in Vegas on my arm that night.
    Take that, Mr. X.
    Not that I’d say that to his face, seeing as he was the one throwing the party, or soirée as Lily called it.
    George let us out at a private entrance at the Rising Star, around the side, where we walked in on a red carpet that had been rolled out, but it just added to the exclusive atmosphere.
    I had to wonder if Lily had researched the room and dressed accordingly, so that she was perfectly attired to play out her big scene.
    Or maybe she was already familiar with it, seeing as this was Mr. X’s turf. The circular room was gorgeous, all done up in rich tones of cream and caramel and gold. Heavy silk drapes hung from floor to ceiling.
    The round tables gleamed with silver and crystal under chandeliers casting prismatic rainbows everywhere. Perfect for a sparkly redhead.
    I asked her, “Was this room designed as a setting for you?” She laughed with delight at my observation. “Very acute of you, darling.”
    I was suspicious. “Did you have a hand in it?”
    “Perhaps,” she said, airily waving her hand at a dark-haired couple.
    My heart skipped a couple beats when I glanced over and saw him. It was my first sight of Mr. Phil Martin, AKA Mr. Beautiful, looking right at home in a classy tux, arriving at the party with a tall and beautiful brunette on his arm.
    The way they gazed into each