Read Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) for Free Online Page B

up with her at the firing range from time to time for target practice, I had no idea what she did outside serving, but I was guessing she was doing something . . . and was no doubt very good at that as well.
    ‘What if you were to tempt him into doing something?’ the wife was saying.
    I looked at her, Rosie looked at me, and Pamela seemed oblivious where she thumbed through the documents waiting to be served on the filing cabinets near Rosie’s desk that didn’t bear any delicate Christmas decorations that could be damaged.
    ‘Like set him up, you mean? With a prostitute or something?’ Rosie asked, glancing at me again.
    Truth was, we’d half-heartedly talked about doing just that with some of the more challenging cases. Would land the client what they wanted with minimal fuss and time investment. Hey, if the guy was going to cheat, he was going to cheat. Right?
    I looked at Pamela Coe, wheels turning.
    ‘I don’t know,’ Rosie said. ‘That seems a little like cheating.’
    I snorted at her choice of words and all three women looked at me.
    ‘Sorry,’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘I’m just going to close this . . .’
    I slowly began shutting the office door.
    ‘Trust me,’ Rosie was saying. ‘If he’s cheating, we’ll catch him.’
    ‘Oh, he’s cheating all right.’
    ‘Then we’ll catch him.’
    Fifteen minutes later, the client was gone and so was Pamela and I could finally make that second frappé I was craving.
    Thankfully, Rosie was busy at her laptop and didn’t engage me when I opened my door and made a beeline for the filing cabinets, careful not to do any harm to her baby Jesus.
    Listening to ‘I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas’, which was playing on her iPod, I shook a generous tablespoon of instant coffee along with a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and a little water in my travel cup, then replaced the jars of both in the top filing cabinet where I’d extracted them with my other hand. I eyeballed the other decorations and considered tipping a lamb or a goat or two inside with them but decided against it when I caught Rosie staring at me as if she expected me to.
    ‘I don’t know how you can drink that iced coffee stuff in this cold weather,’ she commented, leaning in to stare at something on her laptop screen between clacks. A state of the art piece of technology I’d gotten her when things at the agency had been going very well.
    Not that they weren’t going well now. It’s just that, well . . .
    No. I was stopping there. The last time I tempted the Fates by wishing for a more interesting case, I’d nearly been turned into a creature of the night.
    Besides, the supposed kidnapping of Abramopoulos’ kid was interesting. It might be more so if every other PI in New York wasn’t also working the case.
    I added more cold water and a little milk to my frappé and closed the small refrigerator door.
    ‘If you score on any additional whereabouts of Abramopoulos’ ex-wife, call me,’ I told Rosie.
    ‘Did you call your mom?’
    ‘You know I did.’
    She smiled at me.
    I growled.
    Funny, my mother. Last night I got an earful not about putting my life at risk by being a PI, but rather about how I’d missed the saranta .
    I’d expected the same today. At the very least, to be bugged about picking up my saranta bag, an eerie reminder put together for those unable to make the event.
    Instead, she’d told me Grandpa Kosmos was looking for me.
    I’d scratched my head and checked my cell. It wasn’t like I was hard to find.
    Rather than call him, as I promised my mother I would, I decided I’d wait until he contacted me.
    I’d begun to tell her I wouldn’t be able to stop by today to get the bag or whatever bland, fast-inspired meal she planned to prepare when she told me she wouldn’t be home.
    ‘Anything from the CIS?’ I asked Rosie after shrugging into my coat.
    She momentarily looked as if she’d been hit in the face with my icy frappé – as she did whenever I