Read Online Death by Lotto by Abigail Keam - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Abigail Keam
Ads: Link
Double Indemnity with Barbara Stanwyck?”
“Don’t know,” I replied. “I’ll come out.”
Entering the great room, I found Neff admiring my art collection. “Do you like art, Mr. Neff?”
“The closest I’ve ever come is putting a poster of Starry Night over my toilet.”
“How charming.”
“It covered a hole in the wall.”
“Utilitarian, I see.”
“Grab your coat, Toots.”
“Why?”
“I’ve done a background check on the housekeeper and the nephew. It’s the relative that turns up stinky. I want to go where he bought that lotto ticket and smooze around.”
“Why do you need me?”
“The cashier is a woman. She’ll be more likely to gossip with a another skirt rather than someone like me.”
“You mean someone sleazy like you?”
“Toots, you cut me to the quick.”
“I wonder if you even give a damn.”
“I wonder if you wonder.”
I scrunched up my nose. Neff had just said another famous quote from the movie dialogue of Double Indemnity . This was getting ridiculous. “Okay, but I can’t do a long outing. I’ve got about two hours in me.”
“That’s enough time.”
Matt came up behind me and helped put on my coat and handed me my cane and cell phone. “Yes, I was eavesdropping. Call me before you head home. Don’t make me worry, please.”
“Make sure you lock the house up tight when you leave.”
“Stop by my house on the way home and I’ll come back in with you. I don’t like you coming back into an empty house by yourself.”
“Jeez, what are you? Her father?” He turned towards Matt. “I’ll get her back in one piece, Buster.”
“See that you do, Shamus.” (Shamus is a nickname for a private detective.) “Everybody’s thinks he’s a wise guy. Come on, Toots. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Intent on having the last word, Neff strode down the hallway and, throwing open the front door, made for his car which was . . . a 1963 fire engine red Avanti with white detailing and lots and lots of mid-century polished chrome.
I caught my breath. I love beautiful things and this Avanti was made when America knew how to make great cars.
She had a white leather interior with red piping, red carpet and a red dashboard. To make a final statement, she had whitewall tires. She was so clean it looked like she had just come off the assembly line.
Fewer than five thousand Avantis were made in 1963. They were the first cars to offer disc brakes and a fiberglass body. This was the same type of fiberglass that had been used for panels on the Chevrolet Corvette in 1953.
The problem was that the factory couldn’t keep up with demand and the Avanti had to be discontinued.
He opened the car door for me before heading to the driver’s side of the car. It was an unexpected gesture. Maybe Neff wasn’t such a jerk after all.
“Franklin, come look at this,” yelled Matt. “This knucklehead’s got an Avanti.”
“You lie!” cried Franklin from inside the house. I heard a chair scoot back.
Before we would be caught up in male adulation of American cars, I hurried into the Avanti. “Make tracks, daddeo,” I commanded.
Neff grinned while leaving an opened-mouthed Franklin and Matt standing in the dust of my gravel driveway.
Laugher bubbled up from my throat until Neff swerved around one of my peacocks. “Man, if you hit one of my animals, I’m gonna knock you upside the head,” I warned.
“Dig it,” was all Neff replied as he sped out onto Route 169 heading towards Nicholasville. We then turned left onto Route 68, heading towards the Kentucky River.
“Where are we going?” I asked, enjoying the ride. Neff seemed to be a competent driver once out of my driveway.
“It turns out that Jubal Bradley is Ethel Bradley’s only living relative. He’s her husband’s brother’s boy. Both parents have been dead over ten years and Ethel has, from time to time, loaned him money.”
“I see.” I didn’t remind him that I already knew this.
“He works in
“Don’t know,” I replied. “I’ll come out.”
Entering the great room, I found Neff admiring my art collection. “Do you like art, Mr. Neff?”
“The closest I’ve ever come is putting a poster of Starry Night over my toilet.”
“How charming.”
“It covered a hole in the wall.”
“Utilitarian, I see.”
“Grab your coat, Toots.”
“Why?”
“I’ve done a background check on the housekeeper and the nephew. It’s the relative that turns up stinky. I want to go where he bought that lotto ticket and smooze around.”
“Why do you need me?”
“The cashier is a woman. She’ll be more likely to gossip with a another skirt rather than someone like me.”
“You mean someone sleazy like you?”
“Toots, you cut me to the quick.”
“I wonder if you even give a damn.”
“I wonder if you wonder.”
I scrunched up my nose. Neff had just said another famous quote from the movie dialogue of Double Indemnity . This was getting ridiculous. “Okay, but I can’t do a long outing. I’ve got about two hours in me.”
“That’s enough time.”
Matt came up behind me and helped put on my coat and handed me my cane and cell phone. “Yes, I was eavesdropping. Call me before you head home. Don’t make me worry, please.”
“Make sure you lock the house up tight when you leave.”
“Stop by my house on the way home and I’ll come back in with you. I don’t like you coming back into an empty house by yourself.”
“Jeez, what are you? Her father?” He turned towards Matt. “I’ll get her back in one piece, Buster.”
“See that you do, Shamus.” (Shamus is a nickname for a private detective.) “Everybody’s thinks he’s a wise guy. Come on, Toots. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Intent on having the last word, Neff strode down the hallway and, throwing open the front door, made for his car which was . . . a 1963 fire engine red Avanti with white detailing and lots and lots of mid-century polished chrome.
I caught my breath. I love beautiful things and this Avanti was made when America knew how to make great cars.
She had a white leather interior with red piping, red carpet and a red dashboard. To make a final statement, she had whitewall tires. She was so clean it looked like she had just come off the assembly line.
Fewer than five thousand Avantis were made in 1963. They were the first cars to offer disc brakes and a fiberglass body. This was the same type of fiberglass that had been used for panels on the Chevrolet Corvette in 1953.
The problem was that the factory couldn’t keep up with demand and the Avanti had to be discontinued.
He opened the car door for me before heading to the driver’s side of the car. It was an unexpected gesture. Maybe Neff wasn’t such a jerk after all.
“Franklin, come look at this,” yelled Matt. “This knucklehead’s got an Avanti.”
“You lie!” cried Franklin from inside the house. I heard a chair scoot back.
Before we would be caught up in male adulation of American cars, I hurried into the Avanti. “Make tracks, daddeo,” I commanded.
Neff grinned while leaving an opened-mouthed Franklin and Matt standing in the dust of my gravel driveway.
Laugher bubbled up from my throat until Neff swerved around one of my peacocks. “Man, if you hit one of my animals, I’m gonna knock you upside the head,” I warned.
“Dig it,” was all Neff replied as he sped out onto Route 169 heading towards Nicholasville. We then turned left onto Route 68, heading towards the Kentucky River.
“Where are we going?” I asked, enjoying the ride. Neff seemed to be a competent driver once out of my driveway.
“It turns out that Jubal Bradley is Ethel Bradley’s only living relative. He’s her husband’s brother’s boy. Both parents have been dead over ten years and Ethel has, from time to time, loaned him money.”
“I see.” I didn’t remind him that I already knew this.
“He works in
Similar Books
