Read Online While My Pretty One Sleeps by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online Page A

percent of the people in the world, Neeve. Believe me.”
    â€œWas that the way it happened for you?” Neeve asked sweetly.
    â€œFour times.” Sal beamed. “Don’t be so fresh. I’m an optimist.”
    Neeve finished the coffee and got up feeling immensely cheered. “I think I am, too, but you help bring it out. How’s Thursday for dinner?”
    â€œFine. And remember, I’m not on Myles’s diet and don’t say I should be.”
    Neeve kissed him goodbye, left him in his office and hurried through the showroom. With a practiced eye, she studied the fashions on his mannequins. Not brilliant but good. Subtle use of color, clean lines, innovative without being too daring. They’d sell well enough. She wondered about Sal’s fall line. Was it as good as he claimed?
    She was back in Neeve’s Place in time to discuss the next window display with the decorator. At six-thirty, when she closed the shop, she began the now familiar job of carrying home Ethel Lambston’s purchases. Once again there had been no message from Ethel; no response to the half-dozen phone calls. But at least there was an end in sight. Tomorrow morning she’d accompany Tse-Tse to Ethel’s apartment and leave everything there.
    That thought made her mind jump to a line from the poignant Eugene Field poem “Little Boy Blue”: “He kissed them and put them there.”
    As she tightened her hold on the armful of slippery garment bags, Neeve remembered that Little Boy Blue had never returned to his pretty toys.

5|
    The next morning, Tse-Tse met her in the lobby promptly at eight-thirty. Tse-Tse was wearing her hair in braided coils pinned over her ears. A black velvet cape hung loosely from her shoulders to her ankles. Under it she was attired in a black uniform with a white apron. “I just got a part as a parlor-floor servant in a new play,” she confidedas she took boxes from Neeve’s hands. “I thought I’d practice. If Ethel’s there she gets a kick out of it when I’m in costume.” Her Swedish accent was excellent.
    Vigorous bell-ringing did not elicit a response at Ethel’s apartment. Tse-Tse fumbled in her purse for the key. When she opened the door, she stepped aside and let Neeve precede her. With a sigh of relief, Neeve dropped the armful of clothes on the couch and started to straighten up. “There is a God,” she murmured, then her voice trailed off.
    A muscular young man was standing in the entrance of the foyer that led to the bedroom and bath. Obviously in the process of dressing, he was holding a tie in one hand. His crisp white shirt was not yet fully buttoned. His pale-green eyes, set in a face that with a different expression might have been attractive, were narrowed by an annoyed frown. His as yet uncombed hair fell over his forehead in a mass of curls. Neeve’s startled response to his presence was replaced by the immediate sense that his tangled hair was the product of a body wave. From behind her, she heard Tse-Tse draw in her breath sharply.
    â€œWho are you?” Neeve asked. “And why didn’t you answer the door?”
    â€œI think the first question is mine.” The tone was sarcastic. “And I answer the door when I choose to answer it.”
    Tse-Tse took over. “You are Miss Lambston’s nephew,” she said. “I have seen your picture.” The Swedish accent rose and fell from her tongue. “You are Douglas Brown.”
    â€œI know who I am. Would you mind telling me who you are?” The sarcastic tone did not abate.
    Neeve felt her temper rising. “I’m Neeve Kearny,” she said. “And this is Tse-Tse. She does the apartment for Miss Lambston. Do you mind telling me where Miss Lambston is? She claimed she needed these clothes on Friday and I’ve been carrying them back and forth ever since.”
    â€œSo you’re Neeve Kearny.” Now the