Read Online 3 The Case of Tiffany's Epiphany by Jim Stevens - Free Book Online

Syndrome?”
    “No, but I’m sure you will.”
    ---
    Jack drops me off at a nearby ‘L’ station and I finally make it through my front door, five hours since I last arrived. I take a long shower, soak my wrists, put a can of soup on the stove to warm, and figure I better return a phone call.
    “Mr. Sherlock, I’ve been calling you forever,” Tiffany shrieks into the phone. “I get this weird, annoying noise, then it cuts out, and I can’t even leave a message. You’ve got to get a smart phone.”
    “I’m not sure I’m smart enough to use a smart phone, Tiffany.”
    “Well, you got to get rid of that antique thing you use.”
    “It’s already gone,” I tell her. “It broke in two.”
    “See, I told you. It pays to buy quality,” she schools me. She pauses for a moment or two. I can almost hear the wheels inside her brain turning. “If your phone broke, how are you calling me?”
    “On my landline.”
    “Get with it, Mr. Sherlock. The only people who have landlines anymore are AARP Members.”
    I am two years shy of forty and this is the respect I’ve earned so far in life. Pathetic, truly pathetic.
    “Tiffany, what did you call me about the first time you called?”
    “I’ve found a possible break in the case.”
    “Great. What’s broken?”
    “I’m not sure,” she says. “We have to go see Alix Fromound. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
    “No. I’m beat. I just got home. I’m hungry. My wrists are killing me. I want to go to bed. I had a horrible day.”
    “Oh, Mr. Sherlock, it couldn’t have been that bad.”
    “I got kidnapped, shot at, almost run over by a trash dumpster, held at gunpoint, handcuffed, and roughed up by a couple of cops.”
    “Okay, if you need a little extra time, fine,” she says. I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half.”

CHAPTER 5
     
    Gibson’s is a Rush Street steakhouse which was once, and maybe still is, the most profitable restaurant in the country--if you figured it on the basis of square footage. We’re at the bar. Tiffany sips a martini, I, a Shirley Temple, and Alix, a Maker’s Mark.
    “There was some major, bad mojo workin’ that night in Zanadu,” Alix says. “Seriously bad.”
    “I know,” Tiffany agrees. “It tossed me right on the carpet.”
    “I wasn’t talkin’ about you,” Alix qualifies her statement. “That was like the saving grace of the evening.”
    “Thanks, bioché.”
    “You’re welcome--bitch.”
    “You two always been close?” I ask.
    “Too close,” Alix says.
    “Way too close,” Tiffany ups her one.
    “Tell me what was so weird about the evening,” I continue in my search for facts instead of insults.
    “I’m sittin’ at the bar, Monroe Chevelier chattin’ me up--” Alix begins.
    Tiffany interrupts, “Chevelier was chatting you up? Yeah, right.”
    “Ahh, yeah.”
    “As if.”
    “Tiffany,” I interrupt, “would you let her tell me what happened.”
    Tiffany crosses her arms, gives me a nasty stare, and shuts up.
    “As I was saying,” Alix brushes back her long, mid-back, jet-black hair with a sweep of her hand and a slight push back of her head. “Chevelier’s chattin’me up and this guy I’ve never seen before comes right up and cock blocks him.”
    “What?” I say hoping I heard that wrong.
    “He puts this major cock block on Monroe Chevelier.”
    “No way,” Tiffany says. “Monroe’s daddy’s got more money than my daddy.”
    “Not mine,” Alix says.
    “Can we rewind,” I plead. “What did he do?”
    “He cock blocked him.”
    I heard it right the first time.
    “That’s when you’re talking with some guy and some other guy juts right in between, with his butt to him and his face to you, and starts chattin’ you up,” Alix explains.
    “It’s called cock blocking, Mr. Sherlock.”
    I’m in shock. What has the dating world become?
    “It’s not so weird when you’re getting hit on by some wimp and a good-lookin’ stud puts a block on,” Alix explains. “But when