Read Online It Takes Two to Strangle by Stephen Kaminski - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Kaminski
Ads: Link
boyfriend went down to breakfast at the Poorboy,” she said.
Damon stared at Mrs. Chenworth. “The Poorboy? Do you know when they left?”
“Of course, Damon. I gave them directions a few minutes before you arrived.”
Damon shouted “thanks” and bolted for the door. He felt a strong urge to see Clara. Ever the gallant knight, he envisioned Clara looking longingly into his eyes as he uncovered rock-solid proof that placed her above police suspicion.
The Poorboy Diner was two miles from the Hollydale business strip and almost always packed for breakfast on the weekends. But on a Friday morning, it was relatively empty. Damon told the host he would be eating alone as he peered through the diner’s silvery 1950s motif searching for Clara. He spotted her toward the rear of the diner. A tall black man at her table had his back to the door and another man sat facing Clara. The host steered Damon toward the breakfast bar, but Damon requested a booth in the back.
He wasn’t sure how Clara would receive him, if at all. But she smiled warmly with recognition while he shed his lightweight summer jacket. He placed it in his booth and approached her nearby table.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said facing Clara. “It must have been a terrible shock for you.”
“Thank you,” she replied softly. “Even though we didn’t get along very well, he was the only family I had left.” Damon noticed Jordan Hall’s eyes well up with empathy.
“Well,” Damon stammered, unable to think of a way to extend the conversation, “enjoy your breakfast.”
“Wait, Damon. Are you alone? Would you like to join us?”
Jordan frowned. The man opposite Clara shifted in his seat.
It was clear from each man’s body language that he wasn’t welcome, but Damon accepted anyway. Damon shook hands with Jordan who was cleanly shaven and wore a light blue t-shirt with a picture of a double helix coupled with the phrase “Unzip my Genes.”
The other man rose and extended a hand toward Damon, who shook it. The man was of medium stature, in his late fifties and had one of the most unattractive haircuts Damon had ever seen. A purplish scalp stood out in front of a graying horseshoe ring, but he had managed to allow the hair at the back grow down to his shoulders. He had light olive skin and thick eyebrows rising above small green eyes. Tiny dimples highlighted his features without managing to provide an appearance of youth.
Clara introduced the man as Toma Ljubic, her mother’s brother and a hard liquor distributor from Baltimore, fifty miles northeast of Hollydale.
Damon lowered himself into the table’s fourth chair. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Damon found himself saying to Toma after speaking the identical words to Clara only a minute earlier.
“My loss?” he replied sternly. “If you mean my asshole brother-in-law Lirim, I’m not sorry. My sister, on the other hand, is another story.” Toma’s eyes softened when he mentioned his sister. Damon noticed that Jordan had reached out and placed a protective hand over Clara’s.
“Both, I guess,” Damon replied. “Jim Riley told me about your sister, Tabby.”
“And you couldn’t have helped but to overhear me and my father the other night at the Fish Barrel,” interjected Clara.
“I did hear a bit,” admitted Damon.
Jordan chimed in, “At least now, Clara, you won’t have any problems getting your fair share from your mother’s estate.”
“True,” said Clara. “And I suppose whatever my father has is mine as well. Though that brute Victor tells me his share of the business was mortgaged beyond belief. I suspect I’ll have to ask Jim Riley to buy me out.”
“I spoke with Jim at the fairgrounds while you were talking to the police,” Jordan said. “I asked him what he thought of buying. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s fine,” countered Clara curtly. “You know as well as I do that I have no interest in Big Surf.”
“What did Jim
Damon stared at Mrs. Chenworth. “The Poorboy? Do you know when they left?”
“Of course, Damon. I gave them directions a few minutes before you arrived.”
Damon shouted “thanks” and bolted for the door. He felt a strong urge to see Clara. Ever the gallant knight, he envisioned Clara looking longingly into his eyes as he uncovered rock-solid proof that placed her above police suspicion.
The Poorboy Diner was two miles from the Hollydale business strip and almost always packed for breakfast on the weekends. But on a Friday morning, it was relatively empty. Damon told the host he would be eating alone as he peered through the diner’s silvery 1950s motif searching for Clara. He spotted her toward the rear of the diner. A tall black man at her table had his back to the door and another man sat facing Clara. The host steered Damon toward the breakfast bar, but Damon requested a booth in the back.
He wasn’t sure how Clara would receive him, if at all. But she smiled warmly with recognition while he shed his lightweight summer jacket. He placed it in his booth and approached her nearby table.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said facing Clara. “It must have been a terrible shock for you.”
“Thank you,” she replied softly. “Even though we didn’t get along very well, he was the only family I had left.” Damon noticed Jordan Hall’s eyes well up with empathy.
“Well,” Damon stammered, unable to think of a way to extend the conversation, “enjoy your breakfast.”
“Wait, Damon. Are you alone? Would you like to join us?”
Jordan frowned. The man opposite Clara shifted in his seat.
It was clear from each man’s body language that he wasn’t welcome, but Damon accepted anyway. Damon shook hands with Jordan who was cleanly shaven and wore a light blue t-shirt with a picture of a double helix coupled with the phrase “Unzip my Genes.”
The other man rose and extended a hand toward Damon, who shook it. The man was of medium stature, in his late fifties and had one of the most unattractive haircuts Damon had ever seen. A purplish scalp stood out in front of a graying horseshoe ring, but he had managed to allow the hair at the back grow down to his shoulders. He had light olive skin and thick eyebrows rising above small green eyes. Tiny dimples highlighted his features without managing to provide an appearance of youth.
Clara introduced the man as Toma Ljubic, her mother’s brother and a hard liquor distributor from Baltimore, fifty miles northeast of Hollydale.
Damon lowered himself into the table’s fourth chair. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Damon found himself saying to Toma after speaking the identical words to Clara only a minute earlier.
“My loss?” he replied sternly. “If you mean my asshole brother-in-law Lirim, I’m not sorry. My sister, on the other hand, is another story.” Toma’s eyes softened when he mentioned his sister. Damon noticed that Jordan had reached out and placed a protective hand over Clara’s.
“Both, I guess,” Damon replied. “Jim Riley told me about your sister, Tabby.”
“And you couldn’t have helped but to overhear me and my father the other night at the Fish Barrel,” interjected Clara.
“I did hear a bit,” admitted Damon.
Jordan chimed in, “At least now, Clara, you won’t have any problems getting your fair share from your mother’s estate.”
“True,” said Clara. “And I suppose whatever my father has is mine as well. Though that brute Victor tells me his share of the business was mortgaged beyond belief. I suspect I’ll have to ask Jim Riley to buy me out.”
“I spoke with Jim at the fairgrounds while you were talking to the police,” Jordan said. “I asked him what he thought of buying. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s fine,” countered Clara curtly. “You know as well as I do that I have no interest in Big Surf.”
“What did Jim
Similar Books
