Pete stepped into a small, well-lit room where a good-looking blonde sat behind a wide desk. On the desk were neat piles of papers, almost as neat as the dame was, along with a typewriter and a phone. Next to the phone was a small American flag on a pedestal, too small for anyone to count the forty-eight stars. A coat tree stood in one corner. The wall behind the blonde had three closed doors and no windows. It didn’t seem like the best spot to start searching for secrets, but even dull rooms can hold tons of dynamite. Like the blonde.
Kill. Me.
