Read Online Corrupted by Lisa Scottoline - Free Book Online Page B

of male patrons hunched over bottles of Rolling Rock. One man wore a baseball cap with an embroidered revolver above the words I D ON ’ T C ALL 911 . Bennie decided not to sit at the bar, as she had no problem calling 911.
    She opted for one of the tables alongside a lineup of lighted cases with refrigerated beer and another TV, playing the Weather Channel on mute. She pulled up a chair, slid out of her coat, and sat down at one of the square pine tables. The menu was a trifold plastic affair, and she lost herself in the down-home fare of kielbasa, Texas Tommy, and Italian sausage, even though she was a vegetarian.
    â€œHow can I help you?” said the bartender, setting down a tumbler of water, and Bennie looked up. He smiled, a short man with gray hair, a white shirt, and worn jeans.
    â€œI’d like a grilled cheese, please.”
    â€œKitchen’s about to close, but I’ll see what I can do. Be right back.” The bartender left, and Bennie rummaged in her purse for her cell phone, which she flipped open. Heads turned at the bar, and she pressed in the phone number, realizing that she was the person everybody hated, the certified big deal who talked on the cell phone in public. Still, she had a client to update. The phone rang once, and Matthew picked up.
    â€œBennie, how did it go?”
    â€œI talked it over with Doreen, and she apologizes for Richie’s behavior. But I’m not sure we can count on her help going forward, and I’m going to stay over, do some legal research, and see what I can do tomorrow.”
    â€œDo you think you’ll be able to get him out?”
    â€œI won’t know anything until I do the research, so I’ll let you know tomorrow. Fair enough?” Bennie looked over as the front door opened, letting in a blast of cold air and a very tall, dark-haired man in a brown Carhartt coat and jeans, who nodded to the men at the bar.
    Matthew was saying, “That would be wonderful. Thank you so much.”
    â€œYou’re welcome, good night.” Bennie pressed E ND , noticing that the man in the Carhartt coat was eyeing her with a vaguely cocky smile. He was handsome, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been picked up in a bar with antlers.
    â€œDo you mind if I join you?” the man asked, crossing the room toward her table. “I’m Declan Mitchell—”
    â€œUm, I’d rather not—”
    â€œâ€”Doreen Grusini’s brother. You must be Bennie Rosato.”
    â€œOh, sure, sit down.” Bennie blinked, taken aback.
    â€œI just missed you at my sister’s.” Declan eased his large frame into the seat, oversized for the table. He had to be six-foot-five and maybe 230 pounds. “I was on the way home when I saw your car.”
    â€œHow did you know it was mine?”
    â€œThe residential parking sticker for Philly.”
    â€œObservant.”
    â€œOccupational hazard. I’m a state trooper.”
    Bennie thought it explained his size and demeanor, which was generally authoritative. It didn’t, however, explain his hotness. Not that she was interested. She went for the brainy, bespectacled type who tried harder, not the drop-dead-babe type with the world on a string. She glanced reflexively at his hand, which lacked a wedding band.
    â€œI wanted to talk with you about my nephew Richie.”
    â€œSure.” Bennie noticed that over Declan’s shoulder, the bartender was coming over, carrying a glass of water.
    â€œSergeant Mitchell,” the bartender said, with a grin. “You want the usual? Meatball sandwich?”
    â€œPlease, if Sara’s still around to fix it for me.”
    â€œFor you, she’s around. For you, she’ll kill the cow with her bare hands.” The bartender turned away and lumbered off toward the kitchen, and Declan faced Bennie with a sheepish smile.
    â€œSorry about that.”
    â€œNo worries.” Bennie didn’t