Read Online Dead in the Rose City: A Dean Drake Mystery by R. Barri Flowers - Free Book Online Page A

eyes, slamming them to the desk. “That bastard!” she
spat.
    Her indignation seemed real enough, but I
couldn’t help but feel that she was overplaying it a bit. “It’s not
like you didn’t expect this.”
    Catherine moistened her mouth. “He made it
clear to me that he would see other women whenever he damn well
pleased, but actually seeing him with another woman—” She seemed to
choke back tears.
    I offered her a tissue, which she accepted
graciously.
    “Are there any more photos?” she inquired as
if she already had the answer.
    I took the rest out of a drawer and passed
them across the desk. After all, she paid for them.
    Catherine studied certain photographs,
wrinkling her nose with disgust, and ignoring others. If she was
familiar with the blonde, she did not make it abundantly obvious. I
wanted to say something, but felt the pictures spoke for
themselves.
    As for our one-night stand, I wasn’t about to
go down that road again. No matter how tempting.
    Catherine looked up at me. “What about the
negatives?”
    “What about them?” I asked nonchalantly. Most
clients who wanted evidence that a spouse was cheating were more
than content with the photographs exposing the infidelity, but
evidently not Catherine Sinclair.
    “I want them,” she stated simply.
    “I usually keep—” I began.
    She cut me off. “My husband is a very
powerful man,” she said. “I wouldn’t put anything past him if it
meant cheating me out of what is rightfully mine. If I’m to fight
him on his terms, I have to be equipped with any and all ammunition
at my disposal. And that includes negatives which prove his guilt
beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
    I couldn’t really argue with her philosophy,
although I was not sure I bought into it. On the other hand, I
almost never had any further use for negatives once the case was
completed. And this one was over as far as I was concerned.
    I gave her what she wanted and she seemed
pleased, much like a woman used to getting her way.
    “How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching
in her purse for her wallet.
    “You owe me nothing more.”
    “Are you sure?” She gave me a quizzical
look.
    “Positive.” Though it would have been easy to
squeeze her for more greenbacks, of which she seemed to have plenty
of, I resisted the temptation. I wanted to wash my hands of this
case as soon as possible, as they felt dirty. Taking more of her
money would not make them any cleaner.
    Catherine smiled at me for the first time
today. “Thank you—for everything.”
    She forced me to smile at her. “Hope it all
works out for you, Catherine.” I suppose I really did. I walked her
to the door. For some reason I felt compelled to ask: “Will you be
all right?”
    She seemed to contemplate the question as if
spoken in a foreign language. “I’m not really sure. Good-bye, D.J.”
She raised her chin, kissed me firmly on the mouth, and vanished
like a thief in the middle of the afternoon.
    I could still taste her lip gloss as I went
back to my desk, not expecting to ever see Catherine Ashley
Sinclair again. But in my business, I had learned that the expected
was never etched in granite. In this instance, my instincts hoped
it would be.
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    The rematch with Dirk and Clarence was to
take place at Alfonzo’s restaurant. Vincente himself would be
dessert. I found the trio at the same table we had sat at
before—laughing, eating, and drinking as if not a care in the
world. Until now . No doubt they were surprised to see
me.
    Speaking with spaghetti sauce dripping from
his chin, Vincente said, laughing: “How are you feeling these days,
Drake?”
    “Not too good.” I swept my eyes around the
table. “I’m still hurting from the beating I got from your
dickheads.”
    Vincente seemed unperturbed. “You call it a
beating. I call it a warning.” He glanced at his support group, and
back to me. “You got a problem with that, Drake?”
    “No, I don’t have a problem with