Read Online Crunch Time by Diane Mott Davidson - Free Book Online Page A

“I’ve heard of cops doing racial profiling before, but I’d never actually experienced it. And they’re called duck suits.”
    “I was joking,” said Tom, but he realized he’d made a mistake. “Sorry.”
    “Yeah,” Yolanda muttered. “I’ll bet you’re sorry.”
    Tom went on. “And Humberto said, ‘Here, Yolanda, take seventeen thousand bucks, and by the way, I don’t actually have a place for you to stay, but I have an idea. To earn this money, could you and Ferdinanda go live with Ernest McLeod, because he’s investigating me, even though he’s not a cop anymore?’”
    Yolanda said, “Ernest was investigating Humberto?” Once again, I detected a note of . . . what? Dishonesty?
    Tom said flatly, “Don’t try to convince me you didn’t know that Ernest was looking into Humberto’s affairs.”
    Yolanda closed her eyes. She said, “Okay, I knew.”
    John Bertram was summoned by his cell, and I found myself blinking rapidly. I was surprised by what Yolanda had admitted, but I still felt sorry for her. When my business had been closed after someone tried to poison a guest at an event I was catering, I’d been subjected to Tom’s questioning. In fact, that was how we’d met. But I hadn’t enjoyed the interrogation one bit.
    Tom pressed her. “Did you know anything about the investigation?”
    Yolanda took a deep breath. “Something about gold and gems.”
    “Yeah,” said Tom, “something. Do you know if Ernest found anything?”
    “I do not,” said Yolanda, staring straight at Tom.
    John Bertram returned and took a seat. “I just got off the phone with our guys who went to see Kris Nielsen. After the rental house burned down, why didn’t you go stay with Kris? Just temporarily? He told our officers he offered to have you and Ferdinanda—”
    “The hell with you!” Yolanda cried, jumping to her feet. “I told you, that man was stalking me—”
    “He denies stalking you,” John said simply.
    “He’s lying,” said Yolanda.
    “Was Ernest working for you ?” asked Tom. “Trying to prove a case against Kris Nielsen?”
    “I don’t know.” She glared at Tom. “But let me ask you something. When your guy went to see Kris, did the officer treat Kris the same way you’re treating me? I’ll bet he didn’t, because Kris is rich. And white.” While these words hung in the air like an indictment, Yolanda pointed first at Tom, then at John. “Kris Nielsen is my ex -boyfriend, and his house is the last place I would go. Ever.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a faded gray nylon windbreaker, the kind that had been fashionable about twenty years ago. The jacket made a slithery sound as she put her arms into the too-large sleeves. I wondered if she’d bought it at Aspen Meadow’s secondhand store, Julian Teller’s favorite clothes shop. “I’ve had enough,” Yolanda announced. “I need to go get my aunt, and then I need to drive back to Ernest’s place and take care of the dogs. And then I’m going to start calling Ernest’s friends.”
    “Actually, Yolanda,” I interjected, “I’d feel better, well, actually, you and your great-aunt need to stay with us. With someone gunning for Ernest, and with Kris acting . . . you know, the way he is, I’d feel more comfortable all the way around if you were here.”
    Yolanda looked at Tom. “I told Ernest I’d take care of his puppies.”
    John Bertram piped up. “I can take care of the dogs tonight. Feed them, take them out before we go to bed. But my wife’s allergic, so I can’t have them in our house. They’ll be all right at Ernest’s place after you get your stuff.”
    Yolanda had not stopped staring at Tom. “Are you sure you want us here? I can go back and forth to take care of the dogs.”
    Tom’s tone turned gentle. “Yes, I already checked with the department. It’s fine, really. You know how Goldy worries.”
    “You want to spy on me,” Yolanda said to Tom.
    “We want you to be safe,” Tom