Read Online Dancing on the Head of a Pin by Thomas E. Sniegoski - Free Book Online Page B

Remy asked as he brought the delicate china cup down from his mouth to the saucer he held before him. The coffee was good, some of the best he’d had in a while.
    Karnighan had just taken a drink of the scalding liquid, waiting to swallow before answering.
    “Yes, of course. I’ve kept detailed records of all my acquisitions over the years,” he said, carefully placing the cup and saucer on a table beside his chair. “My records are currently in a bit of disarray because of the renovations, but I’m sure I’ll be able to gather them up by this afternoon and have them couriered over to you.”
    The old man winced as he crossed his ancient legs.
    “So I guess it’s safe to say that you’ll take the case?” he asked with a cautious smile.
    Remy nodded. “Of course. It’ll be two hundred and fifty dollars a day plus expenses, if that’s agreeable?”
    The old man reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and removed a check. He unfolded the piece of paper and looked at it before handing it to Remy.
    “I took the liberty of writing this up before you arrived.”
    Remy stood to take it from him. “That’s very generous,” he said, glancing at the amount.
    “An advance, plus a bonus for your anticipated hard work. There is more where that came from, Mr. Chandler. It may seem pathetic to you, but I’ve come to realize that without these items my life seems suddenly meaningless.”
    Remy listened to the man as he refolded the check and placed it inside his own shirt pocket. “I’ll do everything I can,” he told the old man. “There are no guarantees, but I won’t stop working on the case until all possible leads have been exhausted.”
    “Very good, sir. I believe we understand each other perfectly.”
    Karnighan struggled as he attempted to stand.
    “No need to get up,” Remy told him. He approached the collector and again extended his hand. “I’ll see myself out.”
    Remy bid the man good-bye, leaving him to finish his coffee, when a question that he had been meaning to ask Karnighan again rose to the surface.
    “Oh, yeah,” he said, stopping momentarily in the doorway of the study. “I was wondering, Mr. Karnighan, where was it that you heard about my agency?”
    The old man smiled, china cup in one hand, saucer beneath it in the other. “I really don’t remember, Mr. Chandler,” he said, taking a careful sip of his beverage. “But whoever it was, spoke very highly of your abilities.”
    It wasn’t quite the answer he was looking for, but it would do.
    He left the house and started toward his car, spying the guard dogs watching him from an open area that ran alongside the house. He wondered how Karnighan kept them from running away, or from getting into trouble with neighbors, when he noticed the thick collars around their necks. An electric fence, he guessed. A brief electrical shock would be transmitted through the collars if they wandered too far from the property.
    Then he had an idea and wandered back over to the animals.
    “Luthor, I’ve got a question for you,” he said to the pack leader.
    The dog came over to him, again looking for some attention, with which Remy obliged him. How could he refuse?
    “When your master’s things were stolen, do you remember seeing anything or maybe hearing something out of the ordinary?”
    “No,” the dog said, eyes closed with pleasure as Remy rubbed behind his ears. “That’s why bad dogs. Useless. Master say useless.”
    Daisy and Spike tried to muscle in on Luthor’s attentions, the pack leader turning his square head to growl at them. The pair whimpered sadly as they backed up.
    “That’s not true; you’re very good dogs,” he assured them. “Your master is just upset that somebody was able to get inside and take his things without you knowing. Are you sure you didn’t notice anything?”
    The dog pressed his cold, wet snout to Remy’s hand.
    “Yes,” the dog said in between snuffles. “Strange smell.”
    Daisy and Spike were