Read Online Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 5) by Jinx Schwartz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jinx Schwartz
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I can help you."
Oh, crap. Now I really wanted to toss him in the drink, and maybe this time it would take.
Jenks had ordered me to stay out of trouble and here it was: A dead guy, in living color.
Chapter 9
THREE SHEETS TO THE WIND (Nautical term): A reference to the sheets (ropes) of a sail becoming loosened, rendering the sail useless (drunk)
I was running a tad behind schedule when I left Jan and the late Rosario Pardo on the boat. It had been a very long night, I had a lot to think about, and the drive to the jobsite gave me time to ponder. What, in the form of a young Mexican man, had stumbled into my life here?
Rosario's story had a ring of truth, although I have been lied to so much over the years—and lied so much myself—maybe I'm not the best judge when it comes to verisimilitude. However, his sincerity convinced both Jan and me that he was the real deal. He seemed genuinely terrified and if his story was true, with just cause.
Once at my desk, I embarked upon some serious delving into Rosario's story. While I was leaning toward believing him, a gal cannot be too careful. Matter of fact, Jan still had him tied to a chair, waiting to hear back from me before releasing him. I told her I'd email or call when I'd checked him out, so until I knew more he would remain her prisoner. Not that he seemed to mind. Jan's captives never do.
Rosario had given me all the information I needed to hack into the company personnel files so I could check on his identity and that alone gave him major Brownie points in my book. We snoops appreciate one another.
Within minutes I'd read his file and seen the photo they'd taken for his company ID. His thick light-brown hair had that sharp barbered look favored by Mexican businessmen and serious hazel eyes stared into the camera from behind nerdy thick-rimmed glasses. I knew he was at least six-one which, along with his coloring set him apart from the average Mexican office workers I'd met. There was also no hint of the macho smirk most of them seemed to have been born with. The man in the photo and Rosario were one and the same.
I fired a short cryptic email off to Jan: Subject: Him. Okay to let go.
We'd decided that, for now, we'd let Rosario hide out on Raymond Johnson until we figured out what to do with him, and she was charged with documenting his story for us. Once she'd sent it to me, I'd know where to start digging without raising suspicion. Whose suspicion remained a big question.
One thing was certain; Rosario thought he was safely putting his life in my hands. Silly bugger.
Safety dropped by with a cup of coffee in hand, thanked me for the beers the night before and invited me to dinner. Us to dinner. I told him us had other plans. He took it fairly well, but I knew as long as Jan was around, he'd be as well. She draws men like I do trouble. Together we constitute a veritable man-trouble sisterhood.
Antsy while waiting to hear from Jan, it was all but impossible to concentrate on anything work related. I spent time emailing almost everyone I knew, telling them about Chino's whale camp, what Jan was up to, how my job was going and everything except the fact that I was harboring an attempted murder victim on my boat. Not that anyone would be surprised.
If Rosario was telling the truth, what he'd told us so far painted an ugly scenario and if someone, or several someones, tried to kill him, they worked right here on site. He was a little foggy on details after we nailed him, so I hoped when not under threat of being keel hauled he could get his story straight.
Jan's email, when it finally arrived, had a document attached and when I opened it it was apparent that Jan had taken my instruction to begin at the beginning a little too literally. Jan has aspirations of one day becoming a novelista, which made her report read much more like the prologue to a romance novel than the interrogation I wanted.
Rosario's Life
by Jan Sims .
I
Oh, crap. Now I really wanted to toss him in the drink, and maybe this time it would take.
Jenks had ordered me to stay out of trouble and here it was: A dead guy, in living color.
Chapter 9
THREE SHEETS TO THE WIND (Nautical term): A reference to the sheets (ropes) of a sail becoming loosened, rendering the sail useless (drunk)
I was running a tad behind schedule when I left Jan and the late Rosario Pardo on the boat. It had been a very long night, I had a lot to think about, and the drive to the jobsite gave me time to ponder. What, in the form of a young Mexican man, had stumbled into my life here?
Rosario's story had a ring of truth, although I have been lied to so much over the years—and lied so much myself—maybe I'm not the best judge when it comes to verisimilitude. However, his sincerity convinced both Jan and me that he was the real deal. He seemed genuinely terrified and if his story was true, with just cause.
Once at my desk, I embarked upon some serious delving into Rosario's story. While I was leaning toward believing him, a gal cannot be too careful. Matter of fact, Jan still had him tied to a chair, waiting to hear back from me before releasing him. I told her I'd email or call when I'd checked him out, so until I knew more he would remain her prisoner. Not that he seemed to mind. Jan's captives never do.
Rosario had given me all the information I needed to hack into the company personnel files so I could check on his identity and that alone gave him major Brownie points in my book. We snoops appreciate one another.
Within minutes I'd read his file and seen the photo they'd taken for his company ID. His thick light-brown hair had that sharp barbered look favored by Mexican businessmen and serious hazel eyes stared into the camera from behind nerdy thick-rimmed glasses. I knew he was at least six-one which, along with his coloring set him apart from the average Mexican office workers I'd met. There was also no hint of the macho smirk most of them seemed to have been born with. The man in the photo and Rosario were one and the same.
I fired a short cryptic email off to Jan: Subject: Him. Okay to let go.
We'd decided that, for now, we'd let Rosario hide out on Raymond Johnson until we figured out what to do with him, and she was charged with documenting his story for us. Once she'd sent it to me, I'd know where to start digging without raising suspicion. Whose suspicion remained a big question.
One thing was certain; Rosario thought he was safely putting his life in my hands. Silly bugger.
Safety dropped by with a cup of coffee in hand, thanked me for the beers the night before and invited me to dinner. Us to dinner. I told him us had other plans. He took it fairly well, but I knew as long as Jan was around, he'd be as well. She draws men like I do trouble. Together we constitute a veritable man-trouble sisterhood.
Antsy while waiting to hear from Jan, it was all but impossible to concentrate on anything work related. I spent time emailing almost everyone I knew, telling them about Chino's whale camp, what Jan was up to, how my job was going and everything except the fact that I was harboring an attempted murder victim on my boat. Not that anyone would be surprised.
If Rosario was telling the truth, what he'd told us so far painted an ugly scenario and if someone, or several someones, tried to kill him, they worked right here on site. He was a little foggy on details after we nailed him, so I hoped when not under threat of being keel hauled he could get his story straight.
Jan's email, when it finally arrived, had a document attached and when I opened it it was apparent that Jan had taken my instruction to begin at the beginning a little too literally. Jan has aspirations of one day becoming a novelista, which made her report read much more like the prologue to a romance novel than the interrogation I wanted.
Rosario's Life
by Jan Sims .
I
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