Read Online Hunting Sweetie Rose : A Mystery (9781429950879) by Jack Fredrickson - Free Book Online Page A

nudged the table with her hip as she’d seen me do. Again, I could not tell if the yellow-orange thing had quivered.
    â€œIt’s getting old,” she said, sighing. “A connoisseur?”
    â€œI know certain delights.” I shrugged modestly. “No one else seems to be interested in it, though.”
    â€œThey don’t know what it is. I set it out every time, but no one takes.”
    â€œSame brick?”
    â€œI’m afraid it’s lost some of its suppleness; it no longer jiggles.”
    â€œVelveeta,” I said.
    â€œVelveeta,” she confirmed.
    With that, I felt as though I’d liked her forever.
    She carried my mounded plate past a man standing at the head of a short hallway. He, too, wore a square suit, like the guard who’d ridden up in the elevator.
    She opened a door, and I followed her in. The room was small, no bigger than the one I had in college, and decorated about as well. A laptop computer sat on a beat-up wood desk backed against a wall. Above the desk, a huge corkboard held a large calendar that was penciled in with dozens of appointments, and a worn picture postcard of a covered bridge that had octagonal windows.
    Next to the desk, a metal typing table held an old red IBM Selectric typewriter. A row of high beige filing cabinets ran along an adjacent wall.
    I’d seen crummier-looking home offices, but not many.
    She motioned me to a worn wood armchair that creaked when I sat down. After handing me my plate, she went to sit at the desk, in an ultramodern black mesh chair that appeared to be the only expensive furnishing in the room.
    â€œWelcome to Shangri-La, Mr. Elstrom.”
    â€œIt does feel quite comfortable,” I agreed.
    â€œI can think in here.”
    â€œI do my thinking on my roof,” I said, as though that made sense.
    â€œEat, Mr. Elstrom,” she said. “Amanda told me you like to eat.”
    The beef blanket was tender enough to cut with my fork. For sure it had never developed muscle swimming in the sea.
    I chewed, and waited to chit and chat.
    â€œYou’re still very close to Amanda,” she said.
    â€œYou heard this from Amanda?”
    â€œNot in so many words.”
    I looked up from a particularly interesting little piece of cheese. “I like to think we’re still close, yes.”
    â€œSometimes you appear in the newspapers.”
    Amanda wouldn’t have told her that. Sweetie Fairbairn had done research.
    â€œI try to avoid publicity.” I chewed faster, to clear my mouth. Our small talk, even mitigated by fine nibbles, was presenting the potential to turn nasty.
    â€œI’m considering making a rather sizable contribution to an effort she’s leading,” she said.
    It was as Amanda had said. Sweetie Fairbairn wanted to make sure I had no way of getting at any of the money Amanda raised.
    â€œWe never did share checkbooks, Ms. Fairbairn. Anyway, we’re divorced.”
    â€œI don’t wish to offend, but I must be careful.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œAre you really an understanding man, Mr. Elstrom?”
    â€œUnfortunately, I’ve demanded to be understood more than I’ve learned to understand,” I said. It was one of the things I thought about, up on my roof.
    She smiled faintly and stood up. “Thank you for coming,” she said. She’d satisfied herself about me in record time.
    We went out into the hall. She aimed for a cluster of glittering people. I moved toward the window where Amanda and I had stood a few moments earlier.
    I watched Amanda’s reflection in the glass. She was engrossed in conversation with one very thin woman and two distinguished-looking, silver-haired men. She looked happier than I’d seen her in months, and seemed to especially enjoy the witty asides of one of the distinguished men.
    I tried to concentrate on the drama of the view she and I had enjoyed just a few minutes before, but the picture out