“I said. “This is Shell Scott. Let me in.” “No!” I looked at the number on the door. Right place. Before leaving Bruno’s home I had checked on Miss Winsome’s address, Unit Thirty-four of the Canterbury Community, a sprawling condominium on Flower Street in L.A. “Go away! You—you—” I groaned. Sure. Yeah. I hadn’t phoned the luscious—but still Lemming—Regina. I had simply raced here at reckless speed to warn her, possibly save her from violent death. But I had forgotten there was a fate worse than... death. Worse, I had failed to consider the probability that by now I was a fate even worse than the fate worse than death. “Regina,” I said, “you’re in trouble, a lot of trouble, you’re in terrible danger, and I came here to—” She screamed. “Not danger from me, you idiot,” I roared. “I came here to warn you, to help you.” “Go away! Go—” “Goddammit, let me in! I’m not going to hurt you, or … anything. You hear me? I’m not going to, ah, anything.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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