CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We were in Liz Harper’s office at Ross & Logan, high up on the thirty-eighth floor where we would have had a spectacular view of the San Gabriel Mountains had it not been for the smog.
Liz had on a yellow jacket over a charcoal gray blouse with a matching short yellow skirt, which made her look sunny. She perched on the front of her desk with her long, stunning legs crossed. Her stockings were also gray. I knew they were thigh highs, not pantyhose because of where she sat and the shortness of the dress. I could see the darker top of the stocking on her right leg peeking from beneath the hem of the dress along with suspender sling clips from her garter belt attached to the stocking top.
I sat on a visitor’s chair in front of her desk. Had she not crossed her right leg
