Another Side Of Midnight. Mia Zachary

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ music to tourists going into the stores and casinos. Once the sun goes down, though, the Experience is, well, just that.

      You have to be subjected to the two million lightbulbs and 540,000 watts of sound to believe it.

      I made my turn and drove southeast for a while, thinking about the Cavanaugh case. It can be hard to tail somebody on a motorcycle, so I was going to need another set of wheels. About fifteen minutes later, I’d parked the bike and was wandering around the Vegas Metro Motors lot, waiting for Anna to finish with a customer.

      She, Nikki Lopez and I met in French class our freshman year at University of Nevada. We’ve been best friends through nights out clubbing, nights in playing poker and days spent shopping. More importantly, we’ve been friends through Anna’s broken engagement, Nikki’s unexpected pregnancy and Bobby’s death.

      Friendship has often been the key to our emotional survival. That and food.

      Anna rushed over to me, bright red curls flying and a huge smile of welcome on her face. She grabbed me in the kind of hug I tolerate from very few people. I even hugged her back for a second. Her light brown eyes sparkled as she looked at my Have A Nice Day Elsewhere T-shirt.

      “You’re wearing the one I gave you. I can’t believe I added to the collection, but the message is just so you. So, what have you been up to, Steele? You look a little pale. Are you sleeping okay? You should add some iron to your diet.”

      I couldn’t help but laugh. “Take a breath, will you? I’m fine. No salt, no artificial color and I even bought some organic vegetables last week.”

      “Oh, that’s great! Good for you.” She went on to tell me about the produce at a new whole foods shop over on West Charleston.

      Anna is a naturopath, a holistic and organic Earth Mother type. Her hair falls to the middle of her back and the only makeup she wears is beeswax lip balm. She doesn’t need anything else. Her freckled skin glows from good health and a positive attitude. Basically, she’s my exact opposite in temperament and outlook.

      Anna says we get along because of cosmic balance, karma and the fact that we’re reincarnated sisters from ancient Mesopotamia. I love her anyway.

      “So, Steele, I’m guessing you need a car?” Anna slid me an exaggerated glance. “I’ve got the sweetest little Corvette around back.”

      Interested, I cocked my head. “Oh, really?”

      She wriggled an eyebrow. “400 horsepower V-8 engine, 6-speed transmission, leather sport bucket seats, speed-sensitive power steering and a seven-speaker sound system.”

      I rubbed my chin, checking for drool, and started to ask what color it was before I caught myself. I’m a big fan of the Magnum, P.I. reruns, mostly for the episodes when Tom Selleck takes off his shirt. But real private investigators don’t drive Ferraris. Or Corvettes, damn it.

      “I’m just keeping watch on a guy claiming disability and a cheating husband. Better stick with a nondescript, late model sedan.”

      “Boring.” Anna grinned. “Beyond.”

      After storing the Harley in the service garage, Anna helped me pick out a metallic gray Honda Accord that ought to blend in just about anywhere. Anna gave me another quick hug. “Don’t forget about the iron. You have to take it with lots of vitamin C and some chelated zinc.”

      “Yes, dear.” Anna will make somebody a great wife someday. In the meantime she keeps trying to save me from myself. Whether I want to be saved or not.

      I tossed my helmet and backpack on the passenger seat and left in air-conditioned splendor. I played with the radio, finally choosing 97.1 KXPT, a classic rock station. After turning left onto Eastern Avenue, I drove back toward NorthVegas to check on a guy who’d filed a dubious workers’ compensation claim.

      A friend at a big insurance company sometimes throws work my way. Kenny Asher had filed for total temporary disability from an injury on his job at Rose Trucking. He’d used all the right buzz words—slip, fall and twist. However, the insurance company, Fidelity Reliance, still wanted him investigated.

      There was a For Sale sign in front of one of the townhouses. I cruised past slowly, a prospective buyer checking out the neighborhood. Fortunately Asher’s house was an end unit, so the second time around I parked a little ways down the street where I had a partial view of the back as well as the front.

      What a freaking mess. If I were looking to buy, it wouldn’t be any of the houses in sight of Asher’s place. The yard was a patch of burnt grass decorated with rusted tools and children’s toys. The paint had peeled and one of the upstairs shutters was hanging loose.

      As I watched, there were no signs of life. Odd, since the kids should have been home from school by now. I took my digital camera out of my pack and snapped a couple of shots. Then I settled in to wait. I figured I was good for about two hours since I hadn’t had much to drink. Surveillance is much easier for guys, if you know what I mean.

      After about ten minutes, an older woman came out of the house next door to water the flower boxes. I got out of the car. She had a slight figure, with hair and nails as well manicured as her lawn. Despite the statewide push toward xeriscaping— plants with low water requirements—her small patch of grass was green and perfectly trimmed.

      “Good afternoon, ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but I saw the sale sign…”

      She eyed me up and down. I probably should have changed my shirt. Oh, well. “You’re thinking of buying the Jacksons’ house? It’s a good choice. They’ve kept it up nicely and the inside was recently updated. Heather did the wallpaper herself.”

      I held back a smile. There’s nothing better in this business than a nosy—I mean, well informed—neighbor. I nodded toward Asher’s house. “Yeah, it looks a lot better than that place.”

      Her lips pursed in disapproval. “Yes, well, he’s never been the neatest of home owners.”

      “Have you lived here for long, Miss…”

      “Mrs. Sharp. My husband and I moved in over twenty years ago.”

      “Then you know the neighborhood pretty well?”

      She gave me a look that matched her name. “Young woman, I suggest you tell me what this is about. Because you certainly aren’t buying anything and neither am I.”

      Aunt Gloria used to say, “If you can’t dazzle them with bullshit, then give honesty a try.” I offered Mrs. Sharp my hand. “I’m from Midnight Investigation Services. I’m looking into Mr. Asher’s work injury.”

      “Work injury, huh?” She took my hand in a weak grasp. “I thought perhaps he’d been laid off again. Mr. Asher seems to have a terrible time with supervisors who don’t like him.”

      Her tone said more than her words. Apparently Kenny was the type to blame everybody else for his screw-ups. “Did his current supervisor like him?”

      “I doubt it. There aren’t many people who do. I just don’t know how Beth puts up with him. She’s a lovely girl and so good with the children.”

      Mrs. Sharp happily agreed to take my card and call me if she saw Kenny push, pull or lift anything heavier than a beer can. The lady СКАЧАТЬ