Read Online Dead In Red by L.L. Bartlett - Free Book Online

ear.
     
    * * *
     
    I wasn’t ready
to talk to Craig Buchanan’s next of kin. Instead, I called Tom to
apologize, but he blew me off and told me not to bother to come in
that day as he’d already asked Dave the other bartender to step in,
but I’d better show up the next day. Fair enough. I was just
grateful I still had a job.
    After showering, I inspected the small cuts
on my face—no worse than razor nicks. But the patches of redness
were not attractive. So what. It’s not like I’d be going on a date
with Maggie—or anyone else—any time soon.
    The thought of food didn’t turn my stomach,
so I downed my medication with a chaser of Cheerios and two cups of
coffee, then appropriated Richard’s computer to read Sam’s article.
It didn’t tell me much more than I already knew. Next up I tried to
find a Web site with information on the Cattaraugus County tax base
to track down the owner of the house at 4537 Alpine Road. If it was
there, I couldn’t find it.
    Sophie was convinced Walt had a foot fetish
and Google gave me an assortment of URLs to try. Each was set up
like any standard porn site. Lots of shots of hot lesbians licking
toes, naked bi chicks sucking toes, contorted women sucking their
own toes. Walt didn’t have a computer. Did he buy the magazines
with skinny, scantily clad or naked chicks on the cover, tongues
hanging out seductively and masturbate to his heart’s delight? And
if he did, where did he hide them?
    Footsteps approached from the hall and
Richard wandered into his study. “You must be feeling better this
morning.” I turned to see him do a classic double take as he
focused in on the image on his nineteen-inch monitor. “What are you
doing with my computer?”
    I leaned back in his big leather chair and
swung around to face him, struggling not to grin. “Checking out
foot fetish Web sites. Wanna look?”
    “No, thank you. Is there a reason for this
sudden interest in feet?”
    “Walt Kaplan. Seems like it might’ve been
his Achilles heel, if you’ll pardon the pun.”
    Richard shoved his hands into the pockets of
his slacks. “Oh-kay. I suppose you know they’ve made an
arrest.”
    “Yeah, but they’ve got the wrong guy.”
    Richard scowled. “And you’re going to keep
pursuing this.”
    “They’ve got the wrong guy,” I repeated,
enunciating clearly.
    “That really isn’t your concern. Did your
boss ask you to keep looking into it?”
    I let out a sigh and got up from his chair.
“He wants to believe the cops have solved the crime. I haven’t told
him everything I’ve found out yet. When I do—”
    “He may still tell you to give it up. Will
you?”
    I didn’t answer.
    “Jeff.”
    “I don’t know.”
    Richard frowned. “What do you get out of it?
You’ve already got the man’s job. Does it give you a vicarious
thrill to play investigator?”
    I exhaled a breath and chose my words
carefully. “It used to be my job.”
    “And it isn’t anymore. Maybe it’s time you
accepted the fact you have limitations. If nothing else, yesterday
should’ve proved that to you.”
    Anger and shame burned through me as I
pushed past him. “Thanks for the use of the computer.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    I tramped through the house with a single
thought: escape. Next thing I knew, I was in my car and driving
north toward Main Street with no clue as to where I was going. I
pulled over and switched off the ignition. Since the mugging, I was
prone to anger outbursts. The quack back in New York had warned me
about it. But had it really been necessary for Richard to rub my
nose in the fact that I wasn’t yet capable of holding a full-time
job?
    Memories of decades-old hurts surfaced. Our
first Christmas together, when Richard canceled plans we’d made to
spend the day together just so he could suck up to a surgeon he
never ended up working with. The times his family’s chauffeur
showed up at school to cheer me on when he was too busy working to
make it himself.
    I thought