Scavenger hunt

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"How did you get in here?"

Sugar stood in the doorway between the anteroom and her office, hands in the pockets of his blue suit jacket. "Gee, April, that doesn't sound too friendly."

"I was expecting you to call me with an update-you picked a funny time to come by in person." April McCoy picked up the cigarette smoldering in the clamshell ashtray on her white desk and took a short tentative drag, then stubbed it out. The clamshell was filled with broken butts, their filters ringed with red. "Did everything go all right? I haven't heard anything on the radio."

Sugar surveyed the office. "I always wondered what this place looked like. It's nice."

April watched him from behind her desk, eyes narrowed, resting her bulk on her forearms-three hundred pounds if she was an ounce, but well groomed, powdered, and manicured, every frosted hair in place, her dress black and billowy. Nice to see a big girl with her vanity intact, particularly in L.A., where the women thought they had to be built like linguini. "Heather did what she was supposed to?"

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