My office smelled of stale coffee and cheaper regret. The sign on the frosted glass read Veronica Avluv – Private Investigations – Discretion Guaranteed . Discretion. In this town, that was a commodity more valuable than gold.
I looked at her—the confidence, the hunger, the absolute refusal to be diminished. Then I thought of my empty apartment, the lonely stakeouts, the men who only wanted a dirty photo and a quick exit.
"The blackmail?" I asked, sliding into the booth across from her.
Her other hand slid a thick envelope across the table. "I need evidence of my husband's infidelity. He's been seeing a woman in Santa Monica. Get me that, and I get my settlement. Mark and I can live well. And you?" She leaned closer, her breath warm on my ear. "You get to watch." Milfs Like it Big - Veronica Avluv - Mistress P.I.
She saw me first. A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips. She excused Mark, who slunk away like a chastened dog, and beckoned me to her booth.
I took the case. Not for the money—though it was good. I took it because I recognized the lie. Diana Whitmore wasn't a victim. She was a chess player, and I was a pawn.
Diana Whitmore smiled, and for the first time, it reached her eyes. "I want everything, Veronica. And I like it... big." My office smelled of stale coffee and cheaper regret
"So you hired me to investigate... yourself?"
As I walked out of The Velvet Key , the rain had stopped. The city was still filthy. But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't just cleaning up other people's messes.
The champagne arrived. I didn't touch mine. "I'm a P.I., Mrs. Whitmore. Not a co-conspirator." In this town, that was a commodity more valuable than gold
"Mrs. Whitmore," I said, leaning back in my worn leather chair. "You believe your husband's son is... what, exactly? Stealing your jewelry?"
"That's a private establishment," she said. "For women of a 'certain age' and the younger men who appreciate them. Mark has been seen there. With me."