He wasn’t there the next morning, no longer stationed at her street corner. Seattle information didn’t have a listing for Russell Morgan. Cassidy didn’t want to talk to him on the phone anyway; she wasn’t really sure that she wanted to talk to him at all. Definitely not enough to call Angelo for his phone number. It would be unfair to put him in the middle anyway.
There were a lot of Russell Morgans on Google, thirty-five thousand hits. There was an American painter, a 1930s jazz trombonist, a UK drum teacher, a millionaire’s son on someone’s most-eligible bachelors list, a Santa Barbara algebra teacher, and finally an advertising photographer. Russell Morgan Studios in New York—but the link was broken, the website gone. She tried the phone number and got a Chinese dry cleaners.
She did
