“Exactly. Sadie’s usually in on Saturdays. She in her office?”
“She’s there.”
“I’ll head on down. I need to be back at the theater before showtime.”
“I’ll do some digging,” Ian said. “If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.” Heading out the door, Ethan strode down the hall into the office that was Sadie Gunderson’s domain. She sat at her desk behind three computer screens, a big woman in her fifties, broad-hipped, with very curly shoulder-length silver hair.
There were photos on the desk: her son and his family, her daughter and her two kids. Ethan thought of Hannah and felt a pang in his chest. His daughter lived in Seattle, but he rarely got to see her. Nick, Luke, and Ian lived there, too, but the rest of his family was spread across the country.
He and Luke had been born and raised in Texas. Their mom had died five years ago. Two years later, their dad had remarried and moved to North Carolina. Jim Brodie was happy again, had adopted his younger wife’s two kids. Ethan and Luke were both glad for him.
Ethan looked at Sadie and eased farther into the room, approaching quietly, like coming up on a Doberman chewing on a bone.
“Sadie?”
She glanced up, lines instantly forming across her forehead.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a problem and I’m hoping you can help.”
Shrewd green eyes fixed on his face. “Everybody has a problem, hotshot. You’ll have to get in line.”
Ethan didn’t back off. He was used to Sadie, whose bark was worse than her bite. Mostly. “My problem’s murder, Sadie. And if I don’t come up with something soon, it’s going to happen again.”
The woman’s hard look softened. “Well, you better sit down, then, and tell me what’s going on.”
Ethan sat in the chair beside her desk and laid it all out: the notes the top-ten models had received, Delilah Larsen’s murder, the second note left in the safe.
“So where do you want me to start?” she asked.
“I’m thinking we start with the women, each of the models who received a note. Get into each woman’s past, go deep, see if we can find someone with a grudge, a guy who’s willing to murder to get even.”
“If he’s mad at one of them, why would he send notes to ten of them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t care which one pays. Maybe Delilah was just the easiest to get to. Look at their backgrounds, their religion, since he keeps calling them sinners. Look at guys they’ve dated, anything that might give us a lead.”
“Get me the names and I’ll get moving.”
Ethan smiled. “I e-mailed you a file with all the data. Names, addresses, ages, places of birth. You’ve got the basics, but I need a whole lot more. I need the personal info, stuff only a wizard like you can come up with.”
Sadie scoffed. “You ought to know by now, dear boy, flattery isn’t going to work.”
“How about tickets to a Seahawks’ game?”
“That’ll work.” She grinned. “I’ll send the info to your e-mail as soon as I’m finished.”
Ethan bent and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Sadie. You’re a peach.”
“Yeah, well, just don’t forget those tickets.”
Ethan grinned. “Not a chance.” Turning, he left the room, hoping the information, once he got it, would actually be helpful. Giving up a pair of game tickets was a high price to pay.
His smile faded as he left the building, anxious to get back to the theater before something else went wrong.
Chapter Ten
The voluminous, high-ceilinged chamber backstage at the Paramount hummed with activity. Most of the original thirty, now twenty-nine, models were inside the giant dressing room in some stage of preparation for the show.
