Read Online Angel With a Bullet by M. C. Grant - Free Book Online

after.”
    â€œYou have a good eye?”
    â€œOne of the best. It keeps me ahead of the pack.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind, Jonathan. Thanks.” I add a touch of feminine laughter to cement our secret pact.
    After hanging up, I flip through the Yellow Pages and discover Stellar Galleries has a high-rent showroom in Ghirardelli Square overlooking San Francisco Bay. A quick fumble through the reverse directory tells me the owner is one Declan Stellar.
    I dial.
    â€œStellar Galleries, Casper Blymouth speaking.”
    The nasally voice is familiar, and I instantly have a mental picture of the annoying little man who wanted to remove the blood painting from Diego’s apartment before it even had time to dry.
    â€œIs Mr. Stellar available?” I ask, using my most polished voice. No, not the phone-sex one.
    â€œHe is presently having lunch at the Hyatt. May I take a message?”
    He emphasizes Hyatt, just to let me know that if I can’t afford to eat there, I am wasting his time.
    â€œNo, that’s all right. I was planning to stop by. Do you know what time he’ll be returning?”
    â€œTwo o’clock. Can I leave your name?”
    â€œJust tell him Dixie called.”
    He sniffs as if the plainness of the name annoys him and then hangs up without a goodbye.
    I stretch my arms above my head, feeling a vertebra in my spine pop back into place, and rub my ear. I’ve never liked the phone, and I have a bad habit of holding it too tight. But in this economy, the paper frowns on taxi fares to a dozen galleries for background into a story based on a hunch.
    I glance over at the sunlight trying to squeeze through the cracks of the closed blinds and sigh. The SPF 15 in my daily moisturizer isn’t doing me any good if I’m stuck indoors.
    I still have one more call to make.
    The Hall of Justice line goes dead twice during call transfers before I finally connect with Frank.
    â€œHomicide. Fury here.”
    â€œDo you know that if you added a second r to your name, you would be Detective Sergeant Furry?”
    â€œYou’re like one of those stray dogs, Dix. The kind that never goes away.”
    â€œShouldn’t have fed me.”
    â€œI didn’t.”
    â€œIt must have been the ear rubs, then.”
    â€œHow would you like to play a game of catch off the Golden Gate?”
    â€œCruel, Frank. Very cruel.”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œGreek food, but I hate to eat alone.”
    â€œFine. One condition.”
    â€œI’m not bringing my mother.”
    Frank sighs. “We don’t talk about the stiff.”
    â€œWhat stiff?”
    Frank sighs again. “I mean it, Dix. I’ve had it up to here with paperwork on that headless …” He mumbles to himself but doesn’t finish the thought.
    â€œIs the autopsy done?”
    â€œNo and don’t bother interrogating me right now either. I’m still in the middle of transferring the file over to Northern. Their chief has been on my ass all day, you’d think he didn’t have anything better to do.”
    â€œWhen is the autopsy planned?”
    â€œPossibly later today, or maybe tonight, or maybe never. Nobody’s exactly screaming for it.”
    â€œIf you attend, are you allowed to bring a date?”
    â€œJesus, Dix.”
    â€œCome on. I’ve got a feeling about this one.”
    â€œRight now you’re the only one.”
    â€œWay I like it.”
    A rumble enters Frank’s voice that can almost be mistaken for a chuckle. “See you at lunch and remember what I said.”
    â€œWe’re playing catch after?”
    Frank hangs up. Noisily.

Seven
    After slipping into my coat, I stop at the paper’s morgue to convince the lone librarian that I need clipping files on Chino and Adamsky.
    â€œWhen do you need them?” Lulu Lovejoy’s lips form into a quivering kiss as she sucks the end of a yellow pencil.
    â€œThis