Getting Rid of Bradley by Jennifer Crusie

to finish this first.” Anthony frowned as he typed. “It’s almost done. Patience.”
    “And after the hotel, we can hit Lucy’s place,” Zack said. “I think we’re making progress.” He started
    to pace. “Could you hurry up? We’ve got things to do here. I want to get to Lucy’s before lunch.”
    “Just a minute. Just one minute. Amuse yourself.” Anthony’s phone rang and he answered, “Taylor,
    Property Crimes.” Then he looked grim, and said, “Right away,” and hung up. “We have a gunshot
    victim. Female.”
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    Zack’s heart stopped for a moment. “Not Lucy. Tell me I didn’t leave her alone for some creep to—”
    “Not Lucy. Not unless she went blonde again and checked into a hotel in Overlook.”
    Zack shook his head, relieved. “No. Not a chance. The dogs wouldn’t like Overlook.” Then he
    stopped. “Overlook? It can’t be.”
    Anthony nodded. “Same room number as our rat Bradley. After I called, the desk clerk went up to
    check and found her unconscious, still clutching the phone. He called the rescue squad, and she’s on her
    way to Emergency now.”
    “I’ll be damned. He’s shacked up with the blonde in the slums, and then he shoots her and leaves for
    Kentucky? This makes no sense. Wait. How did they know this was our problem?”
    “Because they found your name and phone number on a paper in her purse. Detective Warren. Property
    Crimes. And you’ll love this part...”
    “Come on, come on.”
    “Shot with a .38.”
    Zack smacked his hand on the desk. “She’s our phone tip. John Bradley found out, shot at us on the
    street, and then went back and shot her. So where is Bradley Porter in this? This makes no sense, but at
    least it’s a connection between Bradley Porter and crime. Let’s go.”
    “What about Lucy? Aren’t you going to call her?”
    “And tell her what?” Zack grabbed his jacket. “She’ll keep. Let’sgo .”
    “What did you do, hypnotize this woman?” Anthony said, but he picked up his jacket and followed him
    out the door.

    It was early afternoon when Lucy’s phone finally rang.
    “Hello?” she answered, trying to sound nonchalant.
    “You didn’t call me last night,” Tina said. “I got your message on the machine and called you back, but
    all I got was a busy signal. What happened?”
    “I forgot,” Lucy said, trying not to feel disappointed. She curled up in her blue overstuffed chair. “And
    the busy signal was Einstein. He knocked the phone table over.”
    “Why you don’t have everything bolted to the floor in that place is beyond me. If you must live with a
    herd of animals, you should be prepared. Anyway, tell me about the mugger. You really beat one up?
    That’s terrific!”
    “Well, sort of.”
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    “You only ‘sort of beat him up?”
    “No, it’s only sort of terrific. I really beat him up. His lip looked awful. Of course, he keeps swearing
    that I didn’t beat him up—”
    “You talked to this creep? That means the police got him. Good!”
    “Well, in a manner of speaking. I sent some policemen after him, but I didn’t realize what had happened
    until he showed up at my door—”
    “Who?” Tina asked, confused.
    “Zack. He...”
    “Who’s Zack?”
    “The guy in the alley,” Lucy said, and Tina groaned.
    “And now you’re on a first-name basis with him and you won’t press charges because he’s told you
    about his horrible childhood in reform school. Lucy, you are too damn nice!”
    “Not exactly—”
    “Forget it. I’m coming over, and we’re going to the police and get this Zack character sent up the river
    for life. I know a cop now. That suit in the diner yesterday turned out to have a badge. You stay there.
    I’ll call him and Benton.”
    Lucy sat up straighter and clutched the phone. “No, Tina—”
    “Do you think the police will