Read Online Double Whammy (A Davis Way Crime Caper) by Gretchen Archer - Free Book Online

never across from those kind of teeth. He gave no indication that I had been in the wrong room, or that there was any connection between me and that particular room, he gave me down the road in general about being in any room alone with the door locked. “Were you looking for something?” When he’d had his say, his parting words were, “Go see Natalie.”
    I wasn’t about to tell Teeth or Natalie it was the collection of my ex-ex-husband’s personal effects that had prompted the breaking of all those cardinal rules (which I knew absolutely nothing about beforehand), so bracing myself for another lashing, avoiding both the guest and employee elevators (something they had bothered to make me aware of), I hoofed it to the Executive Offices. I poked my head in Natalie’s door.
    “Davis,” she smiled. “Come on in. The coast is clear.” She was refilling Mr. Sanders’ cinnamon candy bowl from a ten-pound bag of the offensive stuff, the sight of which made me a little dizzy. Natalie was crisp, cool, calm, and didn’t appear to be the least bit upset with me. She offered me a cup of coffee; she didn’t offer me a cinnamon candy. “Now, Davis,” Natalie smiled. “What can I do for you?”
    I scratched at the wig a little. I thought she had asked to see me for round two of Chew Davis Out. “I need a computer,” I said, “and a desk.”
    “Okay,” she said. “Why don’t you step in the back and change out of your uniform.”
    Gladly. If she’d suggested I step in the back and change out of my life , I’d have taken her up on that too.
    After fitting me with street clothes, Natalie set me up in an empty cubicle in the print shop, located several miles under the basement of this gargantuan place. “Keep your head down,” she said. “You won’t run into anyone because the print-shop employees only work graveyard. But if for some reason you do, keep quiet.”
    Aye, aye, Captain.
    “And don’t ever do that again.”
    She said it to my back as I was making my escape. I barely turned, one foot already out the door. “Sorry.” Hand in the cookie jar. “I won’t.”
    “Is there anything else, Davis?” She tapped a pen. “Anything we need to talk about?” Her expression was as blank as a Bellissimo bed sheet.
    I fell against the doorjamb for support, because with her words, a ghost had snuck up from behind and knocked my knees. Then laughed. “Not that I know of, Natalie.”
    I got out of there as fast as I could.
     
     
      
    *    *    *

      
    Not many people go into police work for the money. The ones who do aren’t protecting and serving the public, they’re protecting and serving the dark side. The most I’d ever earned in my life was peanuts, and I hadn’t saved a one of them because at the time, I had a nest egg. Today, at age early-thirties, I had no nest egg, I had no roof over my head, and I’d never work directly in law enforcement again. I could get a job as a computer programmer, but I’d probably blow my brains out by the third day.
    This job had shocked me stupid three times now. The whammy-whammy game had slapped me so hard I actually quit. The severe tongue-lashings, both directly and not so directly, I’d received today set me back and gave me more to chew. But both of these events and their bright red Eddie flags paled in comparison to the shock I received when I checked my bank balance.
    The Bellissimo was paying me a brain surgeon astronaut’s wages.
    In all the interviews, the subject of salary never came up. Not once. I never asked; they never offered. I emailed Natalie my banking information after opening a local account, and she replied that my paycheck would be directly deposited every Friday, and instead of wondering how much it would be, I consulted a calendar, counting the number of Fridays in ninety days. (My interest was more on Visa’s behalf than my own. And I owed my sister a little. My grandmother, too. My father had paid for my car, something my mother