Full Service Blonde. Megan Edwards
to gain from “poking into things,” as Sierra put it. Daniel and my parents would arrive in a few days. It would be Christmas, for God’s sake. What was wrong with me? Shouldn’t I be at the Caesars Forum Shops buying my mom a big bottle of some new fragrance sensation? I hadn’t gotten anything for Daniel yet, either, and I didn’t even have a Christmas dress. I love Christmas, and I had never let the holidays go by without acquiring an appropriately festive dress.
The trouble was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Victoria, and it went way beyond wanting to be a journalist. I didn’t think Victoria was a saint, but she did have a mission. And it was a noble one, I reminded myself. She wanted respect for who and what she was, and she wanted to extend it to all women like her. David might say it was just attention-seeking self-aggrandizement, but I knew he was wrong. I hadn’t gotten much of a chance to know Victoria, but it was enough for me to see the crusader in her. She was a natural leader who might have actually been able to reverse an age-old tide of public condemnation and ridicule. And now she was dead. It was awfully convenient for the brothel and American Beauty, but nobody seemed to find that the least bit suspicious. Nobody but me.
Unless her husband cared. I didn’t know anything about Richard McKimber except that his left arm was a mess and that he wrote a good essay about Forever Young antiwrinkle cream. Did he miss Victoria horribly? Did he want to wreak revenge on her killer? Or was it just the opposite? Maybe he hated being married to one of Bernice’s “ladies.” Maybe he took out a huge life insurance policy a couple of weeks ago. Okay, okay, so I’ve watched too many Law & Order reruns.
Anyway, I made a plan. I knew where Victoria lived because her address was in her files: 1075 Chantilly Court. It wasn’t far from the big truck stop on Blue Diamond Road, according to my Las Vegas road atlas. There was no harm in driving by, right? At the very least, I could see what kind of house she lived in.
And then—I swore—I was going to do my Christmas shopping.
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