Page 60 of The Lady Has a Past

Simon hesitated and then lowered the gun. He did not, however, stash it in the briefcase. He kept it in his hand, pointing at the floor.

Lyra gave the living room a quick glance, taking in the sagging sofa and the threadbare upholstery on the two chairs. The coffee table consisted of a couple of wooden boards perched on four concrete bricks. Evidently Kevin had spent all of his newfound money on the Buick. He certainly hadn’t used it to redecorate.

“Why don’t we all go into the kitchen,” she said. “You two sit down and talk. I’ll make us some tea.”

Simon and Kevin stared at her as if she had spoken in some unknown language.

“I don’t have any tea,” Kevin blurted.

Simon’s lips thinned. “This isn’t a social visit.”

Lyra ignored him. She smiled at Kevin. “Coffee?”

“I ran out a couple of days ago,” he mumbled.

“Cola?”

Kevin flushed, evidently relieved to be able to give a positive answer. “In the refrigerator.”

“That will be perfect,” Lyra said. “Let’s all go into the kitchen and have a cola.”

She did not wait for an answer. She walked decisively across the room. The men followed her and took seats on opposite sides of the battered kitchen table. Simon set his briefcase on the floor beside his chair. He put the gun within easy reach.

Lyra opened the refrigerator, wincing when she saw the mold growing on several items. She took out three of the elegantly shaped cola bottles and opened a drawer to look for something she could use to pry off the tops.

“We’re here because we are looking for a woman who called herself Miss Granville,” she said.

Kevin froze.

Lyra pretended not to notice. She found the bottle opener and went to work. “Granville disappeared from room two twenty-one at the hotel. We know she was taken against her will. We know your car was used to abduct her. We are also aware that other women have vanished from that room. We assume you were involved in those kidnappings, as well.”

“I didn’t kidnap them,” Kevin said, his voice trembling. “I was just the driver. None of them were hurt. How do you know so much?”

“Mrs. Cage explained that we are private investigators,” Simon reminded him. “This is what we do. We find answers.”

“None of them got hurt,” Kevin said again. He sounded frantic. “I swear it. I saw them afterward. They were all okay.”

Lyra looked at him. “Is Miss Granville all right? Is she safe?”

Kevin hesitated. Then he seemed to collapse in on himself. “I don’t know. Granville was different.”

“How?” Simon asked.

“I was told there wouldn’t be a pickup with her.” Kevin stared down at the scarred wood table. “With the others I was told to expect a phone call that would tell me when to pick up the women.”

“What did you do after you picked them up?” Simon asked.

“I took them to a spot that was within walking distance of the train station. Told them to buy a ticket to L.A.”

Lyra felt the ghostly fingers on the back of her neck. “Were any of the women hurt?”

“No,” Kevin said quickly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. No one got hurt.”

“Did any of the women talk to you about what had happened to them?” Simon asked.

Kevin hesitated. “Most of them never said a word. Some cried. They were blindfolded, so they couldn’t see my face. When I let them out of the car they were relieved. Couldn’t wait to get on the train. But there was one—the last one. Classy. Blond.”

Lyra carried the cola bottles to the table and set them down. “She talked to you?”

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