“She hadn’t heard that voice in a long time, but it was definitely the Bitch. The Bitch and the Producer. First the Bitch said something, then the Producer. The Bitch, the Producer. Like a game of tennis. The Bitch and the Producer were playing tennis. Helena laughed, and then tried to muffle it with her pillow. They mustn’t hear her.“What do you mean, you don’t have a key?”“Well, well. Mrs.… ah … Mrs. Derringer, is it?”“Yes, it is.” The Bitch did not sound pleased.“Yes. Well, Mrs. Derringer, I ...don’t generally make a habit of keeping a key to someone else’s house.”The knocking started again. “Goddamn it, Avery, open this door. Helena? Are you in there, darling?”“Now, Mrs. Derringer. I don’t think Avery is in there.”“What do you mean? Where the hell is that man?”“As I said over the phone, I don’t keep tabs on my friends. But I can’t say that I’ve seen him lately.”“Well, Mr. Fox. It is Mr. Fox, isn’t it?” She sounded very cool now.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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