Read Online Haunted Hearts by John Lawrence Reynolds - Free Book Online Page B

up at McGuire with a watery eye. “What’re you up to these days? Freelancin’?”
    McGuire stood and handed her his business card. “For a bunch of lawyers.”
    Libby sniffed the air, then brought the business card close to her nose and nodded. “Figured it was either that or the litter box needed changin’.”
    Barely an hour later, McGuire was back in his office draining his second cup of coffee when the telephone rang, and Libby began talking almost before McGuire finished saying his name. “You got a pencil?”
    McGuire told her he did.
    â€œRoss Randolph Myers is in Annapolis.”
    â€œHe likes the navy?”
    â€œHe likes horses, like you said. They got more brains’n him. Every time this guy looks at a nag he sees a jockey on its back and money on its nose. Annapolis is close to Pimlico.”
    â€œAddress?”
    â€œDon’t know. He hangs out at a place called the Academy Bar and Grill.”
    â€œHow’d you get all this so soon?”
    â€œWhat, you crazy?”
    â€œI’m not goin’ into competition with you. Just curious.”
    â€œWho keeps tabs on people better’n an ex-wife owed alimony?”
    â€œA bookie.”
    â€œA bookie who knows a guy that’s smart enough to tap an endless supply of scratch and dumb enough to bet the favourite to win all the time.”
    â€œThanks for this, Libby.”
    â€œI don’t do it for thanks. You owe me a couple hundred, McGuire.”
    When he hung up, McGuire called Flanigan’s extension, and Lorna Robbins answered.
    â€œHe has a busy day, but I’ll ask if he’ll see you,” she said. “How’s yours?”
    â€œHow’s my what?” McGuire said.
    She giggled. “Your day. I heard Mr. Pinnington raving about you to a couple of partners this morning. He thinks you’re some kind of genius. For what it’s worth.”
    â€œBy the way,” McGuire said. “I haven’t forgotten about lunch.”
    â€œNeither have I. Just a minute.” McGuire listened to thirty seconds of silence from the receiver before she returned. “Can you be here at ten minutes to twelve?” she said. “He can see you then. And how about today? For lunch, I mean. He’ll be finished with you at noon. That is, if you’re still interested.”
    McGuire said he was.
    At ten minutes to twelve he arrived at Lorna’s desk. She looked up at him, smiled, and bit her lip. “You keep your promises,” she said.
    â€œI try to.”
    â€œWhat a guy.” Lorna lifted her telephone receiver, entered a number, and tried to avoid looking at McGuire while she twirled locks of her hair between her fingers. “Mister McGuire’s here,” she said formally. “He’s waiting for you,” she said to McGuire, replacing the receiver. She placed her arms on the edge of her desk and leaned against them, watching McGuire as he entered Flanigan’s office.
    Orin Flanigan fingered his tie with one hand, his eyes never wavering from McGuire’s. On the walnut credenza behind him sat a framed photograph of an attractive middle-aged woman with vaguely Slavic features, her dark hair frosted with gray, her smile poised for the photographer. Next to it he saw a portrait of a younger woman whose face echoed the same features. Wife and daughter, McGuire assumed.
    â€œHow did you do that?” Flanigan asked.
    â€œDo what?” McGuire was slumped in a leather chair facing Flanigan’s desk. Through tinted windows, he could see aircraft lined up over the ocean, waiting to descend into Logan Airport.
    â€œLocate someone with such little information.”
    â€œHe’s a gambler. Gamblers leave tracks.”
    â€œHow do you know it’s really him?”
    â€œI don’t. But I’m sure it is.”
    â€œHow sure?”
    McGuire took his eyes from the aircraft and stared at the lawyer. “What are