High Heels and Homicide
Chapter One
Maggie Kelly sat at the desk in the corner of the
large living room of her Manhattan condo.
Sort of sat. She actually was rather supported by her
desk, her headset phone jammed down over her
uncombed hair, her forehead pressed to the desktop,
her arms hanging on either side of the chair.
She looked rather like one of those collapsible
dolls, one whose button had been pushed.
She spoke into the headset. "Okay, okay. Once
more, with feeling. M, as in moronic. A, as in asinine.
R, as in ... as in-ridiculous! Margaret. It's Margaret.
My name is Margaret Kelly, not Missy. How difficult
can this be? You'd think my name was Schwarzenegger.
What? No! Not Missy Schwarzenegger! Margaret
Kelly! Oh, God-what? No! Don't put me on
hold. I've already been on hold three times, and I
already know all the words to "It's a Small World."
Don't put me on-oh, hell ..."
"Talking to your knees, my dear? There are some,
myself not included, of course, who might consider
that a tad eccentric. But, then, I know you."
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