“I opened my eyes. My cat Bumper’s face sat about three inches away from mine. We stared at each other and I blinked first. “You hungry or what?” He jumped off the bed, ran to the kitchen, and sat by his food bowl. The clock read seven-fifteen. I made a cup of tea with milk, sat at the table, and opened Harriet’s blue address book. Isabel Casco lived in an apartment in Santa Monica on Eleventh Street. Paulina Polinskaya, the woman who received five hundred dollars a week from Harriet’s personal ...account, lived not too far away on Venice Boulevard in Culver City. I needed to talk to both of them. Paulina never returned my call, so I planned a sneak attack. I figured everyone would still be at home on a gloomy Sunday morning in December. The southbound 405 Freeway was wide open at seven forty-five, and I reached Culver City in thirteen minutes. I drove west toward the ocean on Venice Boulevard, looking for Paulina’s address, while a light drizzle sprinkled my windshield. A mixture of one-story commercial structures and gray office buildings lined both sides of the street.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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