Read Online A Shark in Calle Ocho by Joe Curtis - Free Book Online Page B

place. There was one problem that he kept turning over in his mind: How was he going to get in the inside? Surely they wouldn’t just let him waltz right in—especially if what Mary Catherine had said was true.
    His thought was interrupted when the newspaper on his front seat was swept to the floorboard when the wind caught it. Looking at the paper, Bob grinned.
    “I’m going undercover,” he said aloud. “They won’t let Bob the bounty hunter in, but I bet they’ll let Bob the freelance journalist in.” He laughed and started singing “Secret Agent Man.” It blended in nicely with the Hispanic music coming over the beauty queen’s radio.
    Bob pulled up to the impressive three-story building. To say the least, he was impressed. Glass all but covered the front face of the building, with accents of dull orange. The front lawn was manicured and dotted with palms. Even the parking lot looked like it was newly striped, and the pavement was black with no oil stains.
    Nice place , Bob thought, inspecting his surroundings. On the way there, Bob had stopped by Circuit City and bought a small recorder, pens, and notebook so he could at least look the part of the writer. With that in hand, he made his way through the front doors to a beautiful receptionist.
    “Hi, welcome to Care Ambulance Service. May I help you?” the receptionist said from behind the mahogany counter. She was blond and tan. When she talked, she showed gleaming white teeth. Bob thought she belonged in Hollywood rather than Miami.
    “Yes, you may,” he said, smiling. “I’m Bob McKaren, a freelance journalist, and I’m doing a story on non-profit medical organizations. I’d like to include Care in the piece.”
    “Wonderful,” she said gleefully. “Let me get you our public relations officer. Her name is Lauren Welch.”
    “Great,” he said as the receptionist began dialing the number.
    In a few moments, Bob could hear the click-clack of heels coming down the hall. Lauren Welch was an attractive brunette that stood a hair over five feet, with a classic public relations smile. When she reached Bob, she extended a hand whose nails were well manicured. Bob quickly stood and introduced himself.
    “Hi, I’m Bob. I’m writing an article about—”
    “Clara told me over the phone, Bob,” she said, interrupting forcefully. “I have about thirty minutes available to give you a tour and answer any questions you may have.”
    “That’s sounds fair enough,” he said, returning a fake smile.
    “Let’s get started with a tour. There’s not much, except for our twenty-four-hour call room and bookkeeping, but I believe it will give you a good idea of what we’re all about,” she said, turning and starting off. Bob had no choice but to follow.
    “We’ll see what you’re all about,” he murmured under his breath.
    Lauren turned her head.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I was just talking to myself. You know—mental notes.”
    “Oh yes—I do that all the time,” she said with a laugh. “This is our call room. Blah, blah, blah. This is our data storage room.”
    Bob noted the location of the room, thinking it could be useful in gathering evidence against Shark. When they reached her office, she asked Bob to sit down while she got coffee and made a few phone calls. Bob noticed there were no personal pictures on her desk—no husband or children—and she wore no wedding band.
    “Um, all right,” Bob said, rubbing his chin. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Come on, Bob—concentrate. You don’t have time for love right now.”
    “Talking to yourself again?” Lauren said, back with coffee sooner than he’d expected.
    Bob sat up straight.
    “Uh, oh, yeah—more mental notes.”
    “I see,” she said. She placed a cup of coffee with creamer and sugar next to him and walked around her desk to sit down with her own cup.
    “Thank you—I missed my cup this morning,” Bob said.
    “No problem. We try to accommodate as best we can.