Chapter 10The limo was idling at the curb, and lounging against it was our chauffeur.
Granger looked like something out of a movie about high society—six feet tall, dressed in a snug, black chauffeur’s uniform, patent leather boots that molded well-shaped calves, a billed cap shading quietly observant gray-green eyes.
At our approach, Granger snapped to attention and opened the passenger door.
“Shall I take that, sir?” She nodded toward the boxed cake in my hand. Her voice was husky, deep for a woman.
“No, that’s okay, thank you.”
“Very good, sir. To the Madison Arms now?”
“Yes, please.” I turned my head to smile at my lover. “We’re going to be fashionably late.”
“Cool. I always wanted to make an entrance.”
Granger suddenly coughed. She appeared to have something in her throat. Wil
