Read Online Even the Wind: A Jonas Brant Thriller by Phillip Wilson - Free Book Online

said, producing a piece of paper from the pile as if on cue. He handed the paper to Clatterback, who looked at it intently. Allison Carswell’s mobile phone bill from the previous month, and not for the Samsung. She’d obviously had a second phone, which struck him as odd. A quick survey of the bill showed a breakdown of the charges, clearly indicating heavy data usage. The Samsung was an older model with a small, gray screen barely larger than a postage stamp. She wouldn’t have done much texting from the older handset.
      ``Did Allison have an iPhone?’ Brant asked.
      ``I think so, yes. Either that or a Blackberry.’’
      ``Do you know where she kept it?’’
      Chua shrugged a reply.
    ``You’ve been very helpful,’’ Brant said, barely concealing his sarcasm. ``Her parents will need to know. Someone will be in touch.’’
      Chua shook her head and looked down at her feet, doing her best to avoid his eyes.  
      Brant retrieved the phone bill from Clatterback, placed it into his hip pocket then gathered the half dozen CDs into their carrying case.
      ``I’m going to call this in,’’ Brant said to Chua, taking in the room with a nod of his head. ``The computer will need to be analyzed at the station. Someone’ll be in touch.’’

    ``That was productive,’’ Brant said, dipping a chicken tender into a pot of honey mustard sauce and popping it into his mouth. ``We’re getting somewhere.’’
      ``You rattled her at the end.’’
      ``Did I?’’ Brant replied, smirking.  
      They were sitting in an Irish pub a stone’s throw from Haymarket Square. The afternoon had turned into early evening. The financial district had emptied. Brant had phoned Mrs. Rodrigues to check on Ben. He’d heard Ben in the background and the sound of pots and pans crashing together.
      ``Put him on please,’’ he said to Mrs. Rodrigues.
      ``We’re cooking.’’  
      ``What are you making?’’
      ``Pasta.’’
      ``That’s good. You like pasta.’’
      ``When are you coming home?’’
      ``In a bit, buddy. I’m still at work.’’
      ``Did you catch any bad people today?’’
      ``Not yet. But I’m doing my best.’’
      ``Stevie says policemen kill people. Have you killed anyone, Daddy?’’
      Brant thought the question over, unsure how to reply.  
      ``Sometimes policemen have to do difficult things to protect the good people,’’ he finally said, doing his best to be truthful. ``Put Mrs. Rodrigues back on the phone please.’’
      ``He’s a good boy Mr. Jonas. Smart too.’’
      ``Thanks for picking Ben up. I’m still downtown.’’
      The pub was located in the bottom level of a renovated office building. They’d taken a booth at the back and away from the bar where the usual gaggle of office workers congregated. Brant sat with his back to the wood-paneled wall, affording him a view of the restaurant area and the bar. The place was busy when they’d arrived and was getting more crowded by the minute. He’d been in the place a few times and recognized some of the usual crowd. Broad-shouldered young men stood in packs by the bar. Four flat-screen monitors hung from brackets affixed to a dropped ceiling painted bright red and accented by strips of blue LED lighting. A basketball game played on one of the screens. Local newscasts and a baseball game filled the others.
      ``Everything ok?’’ Clatterback asked, sucking his Guinness and wiping the foam from its head with his sleeve. ``What’s with the kid? You married?’’
      Brant shook his head. ``Widowed, I guess, if that’s still an acceptable word. And the kid is my son, Ben. He’s four.’’
    ``So what happened to your old lady?’’
      ``Geez Cluster, not too subtle are you?’’
      ``You haven’t decided yet, huh?’’ Clatterback asked with a playful twinkle in his eye.
      ``What are you talking about?’’
      ``Junior. Cluster. You keep switching between the two.’’
      ``More I get to know