Exactly like the woman Boston believed she was.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said evenly.
Margaret paused. “Who was that, Charles?”
“The pharmacy,” I lied. “There’s a problem with my blood pressure medication. I need to handle it in person.”
She turned slowly. Her warm hazel eyes narrowed for the briefest moment. Yesterday, I would have mistaken it for concern.
Today, after Frank’s warning, it looked like calculation.
“Don’t stress yourself, darling,” she said sweetly. “You know what the doctor said about your heart.”
“I’ll be fine.”
At The Velvet Elm, Frank didn’t meet me at the front. He waited by the service entrance in the alley, pale and silent, then led me downstairs to the basement security room. The air smelled of old grease and cleaning chemicals.
