Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (most read book in the world .txt) 📕

his eyes off the exceedingly good-looking man who was accompanying her.

Matt’s eyes fell upon the receptionist’s name tag pinned to his chest. “Matt Flowers, private investigator, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Gustavo.” Matt let the name roll slowly off his tongue as he locked eyes with the receptionist, who for a moment was stricken mute. Matt gestured toward Poppy. “This is my assistant, Poppy Harmon.”

Gustavo didn’t even bother to look at Poppy; instead his puppy-dog eyes remained firmly glued on Matt’s handsome face. As Matt explained why they were here, how they were investigating the Fabian Granger murder, how a brief look at the hotel’s security cam footage would be immeasurably helpful, Poppy began to assume from Gustavo’s troubled expression that even Matt’s considerable charm might not be enough this time.

“I don’t know . . . I’d have to ask the manager, and I’m not sure he would want me to—”

Matt reached out and gently placed a hand on top of Gustavo’s, which was resting on the check-in desk counter. “I understand. The last thing I would want to happen is for you to get into any kind of trouble. I’d feel terribly guilty.” Then he lightly patted Gustavo’s hand. Poppy saw a slight shiver rushing through Gustavo, who glanced around to see if his manager was anywhere in the vicinity. Satisfied, Gustavo leaned closer to Matt and said in a whisper, “I can’t let you back there where we keep the footage, but I could download it on my iPad and show you out here.”

“You would do that for me?” Matt asked, a hand on his heart.

Gustavo nodded with a conspiratorial smile.

And a lot more, I’m sure, Poppy thought.

For a straight man, Matt was a master at the seduction of gay men.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be lifelong friends, Gustavo,” Matt purred.

“I’m going to hold you to it,” Gustavo giggled, lighting up again with the force of not just any Christmas tree, but the one towering every year in the middle of Rockefeller Center. “Be right back.”

Gustavo flew out a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.

“Impressive,” Poppy said, shaking her head. “Do you find it at all tiring handling all the unrequited crushes these countless girls and boys seem to have on you?”

Matt tossed her a knowing smile. “Oh, please, Poppy, I know you had your own long line of admirers back in the heyday of your acting career, still do from what I can tell.”

“Perhaps, but you are a master, when called upon, at using it to your advantage. I’m afraid that’s a skill I sorely lack.”

“I can teach you,” Matt eagerly offered. “It’s all in the eye contact.”

Poppy let loose with a throaty laugh.

He was being sincere not boastful, but Poppy still found it amusing.

The door opened and a chastened Gustavo returned, clutching his iPad. Behind him was a stern-looking much older man, in his sixties, Ralph printed on his name tag along with Hotel Manager.

Poppy swallowed hard.

It was clear Gustavo had been caught downloading the security footage onto his iPad.

Ralph pushed in front of Gustavo, who flashed Matt an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, but it is against hotel policy for us to hand out our security footage to just anyone to watch. Gustavo should have known that.”

“I’m sorry. Matt Flowers, private investigator,” Matt chimed in, thrusting out his hand to shake.

Ralph limply accepted it, clearly nowhere near as enthralled with Matt as Gustavo had been. No, Ralph could not have been less impressed and it was becoming increasingly clear that their efforts to see the footage were about to be curtailed.

Until . . .

Ralph finally noticed Poppy.

Matt was still prattling on about how deeply personal this case was to him, how he only wanted to assist the police and not get in their way, but all of his entreaties fell on deaf ears because Ralph the hotel manager was now solely focused on Poppy.

Or Daphne, Poppy’s character on Jack Colt.

Ralph’s eyes flickered back and forth, and Poppy wondered if he was trying to place her from somewhere, not quite remembering where he knew her from, but that notion was quickly dispelled.

“I was such a huge fan of yours,” Ralph announced, practically drooling.

“Why, thank you,” Poppy said, almost with a Southern drawl, which she couldn’t explain. She just wanted to come off as friendly.

“My wife is never going to believe this. She’s always joking that I’d rather be married to you because I still watch old episodes of Jack Colt on MeTV when I’m feeling down and need to lift my spirits. Rhonda, that’s my wife, likes you, too, mostly from that perfume ad you did in the late seventies.” Ralph gestured toward Matt. “He with you?”

“Yes, he’s my associate,” Poppy answered.

“You mean, you’re a private detective, too? Are you kidding me? You played a detective’s secretary on TV back in the day, and now you’re one in real life? That is so awesome!” Ralph barreled out from behind the reception desk, waving his phone. “Do you mind if I get a selfie? My wife is going to die!”

“Of course,” Poppy said cheerfully.

Matt offered to take it, but Ralph waved him off, preferring to snap it himself. Once he got one he was satisfied with, Ralph hurried over and snatched the iPad out of Gustavo’s hand before hustling back over to Poppy’s side. “Rules are made to be broken and all that, right?”

“We’re so grateful for your help, Ralph,” Poppy purred, even more seductively than Matt.

Matt, standing next to Poppy, whispered under his breath, “I don’t need to teach you a damn thing.”

Ralph thrust the iPad in front of them and began playing the footage. “Cops went over this with a fine-tooth comb. We only found one person entering the hotel, besides yourself, Ms. Harmon, who was not a registered guest.” Ralph fast-forwarded through the footage. “The police had no idea who this guy was, and the girl on duty at reception didn’t even remember seeing him, but the camera picked him up entering around eight-thirty