Read Online Nobody's Child (Georgia Davis Series) by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Libby Fischer Hellmann
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got me started.”
Martin couldn’t be much more than five four. He barely came up to her chin. As if he’d read her mind and wanted to minimize the difference between them, he went back to his desk and waved her into a chair. “So you’re really a PI? Where?”
“Mostly Evanston.”
His eyes went shiny with awe. It was too much.
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “It’s usually pretty boring.”
He flicked his hand. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. But there’s a reason you’ve come all the way down to God’s country from Evanston. I bet I’m in for a good story.”
She smiled at that. “I have a food wrapper. At least I think it is. I wanted to know if you could identify where it’s from. What restaurant.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Well now, that’s different. Want to tell me how you got it?”
“Not really.”
”I didn’t think so.” He let out a resigned breath. “Okay. Let’s see it.”
She pulled out the note, which she’d put in a small paper bag. She handled it gingerly.
He read it. “Someone has a long-lost sister?”
“I’m not here for an explanation of the contents,” she snapped. “Just the paper.”
“Sure. Sure.” Frown lines creased his forehead.
Georgia felt guilty. She should apologize for being testy.
He looked up. “Listen. I’m not trying to be a bastard, but I need to touch it. Get a feel for the weight and texture. I’ll be careful.”
She handed it over. “Edges only. If you can,” she added.
Martin took an edge of the note between his thumb and forefinger and massaged the paper. “Seems like standard weight. And texture. Kind of your basic wrapper. Which makes it hard to say where it was produced. There are a lot of possibilities.”
“There’s no way to be more specific?”
He shrugged “There are so many varieties. Waxed, unwaxed. Foiled or not. On one or both sides.”
“And this one?”
“Just your standard deli wrap. It’s not coated with anything. They use this kind at places like Subway or Potbelly’s.”
“What about those yellow and red stripes running down the edge?”
“I was getting to that. You can customize wrappers any way you want. For example, the foiled ones come in silver, gold, even red. Deli wrap can be translucent, have a checkerboard pattern, and be any color. You can even put your logo on it.”
“But this isn’t customized?”
“Like I said, it’s hard to tell. Especially with such a small piece. If I had the whole thing…” He let his voice trail off.
“This is all I’ve got. Could it be one of yours?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Is there a catalogue of different wraps and who makes them?”
“It’s complicated. Each manufacturer, even each food-service company, has their own.”
“Is there a way to check them and see who makes this one? Online, for example?”
“Frankly, if you’re not in the business, it would be hard. I mean, you could, but you probably would get frustrated. Too many choices.”
Georgia didn’t reply.
He straightened. “This a heater case?”
She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” He looked almost gleeful.
He’d misinterpreted her silence. She should correct him. Before she could, though, he jumped in. “I have an idea. Can I keep this?”
Georgia was about to say no when he cut her off. “No, of course I can’t. You have to send it in for prints and stuff. Unless you already have…” He paused, his expression as hopeful as a puppy’s.
She shook her head. “Sorry. I can’t let you keep it.” She reached for the wrapper. It was time to head back. It had been a long shot, anyway. She was gathering her things when he raised his palm.
“Hold on.” Martin rolled back from his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a smartphone. “Let me take a couple of shots.” He smoothed out the wrapper, anchored it with the edge of his book to keep it flat, and shot three or four photos. He checked the
Martin couldn’t be much more than five four. He barely came up to her chin. As if he’d read her mind and wanted to minimize the difference between them, he went back to his desk and waved her into a chair. “So you’re really a PI? Where?”
“Mostly Evanston.”
His eyes went shiny with awe. It was too much.
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “It’s usually pretty boring.”
He flicked his hand. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. But there’s a reason you’ve come all the way down to God’s country from Evanston. I bet I’m in for a good story.”
She smiled at that. “I have a food wrapper. At least I think it is. I wanted to know if you could identify where it’s from. What restaurant.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Well now, that’s different. Want to tell me how you got it?”
“Not really.”
”I didn’t think so.” He let out a resigned breath. “Okay. Let’s see it.”
She pulled out the note, which she’d put in a small paper bag. She handled it gingerly.
He read it. “Someone has a long-lost sister?”
“I’m not here for an explanation of the contents,” she snapped. “Just the paper.”
“Sure. Sure.” Frown lines creased his forehead.
Georgia felt guilty. She should apologize for being testy.
He looked up. “Listen. I’m not trying to be a bastard, but I need to touch it. Get a feel for the weight and texture. I’ll be careful.”
She handed it over. “Edges only. If you can,” she added.
Martin took an edge of the note between his thumb and forefinger and massaged the paper. “Seems like standard weight. And texture. Kind of your basic wrapper. Which makes it hard to say where it was produced. There are a lot of possibilities.”
“There’s no way to be more specific?”
He shrugged “There are so many varieties. Waxed, unwaxed. Foiled or not. On one or both sides.”
“And this one?”
“Just your standard deli wrap. It’s not coated with anything. They use this kind at places like Subway or Potbelly’s.”
“What about those yellow and red stripes running down the edge?”
“I was getting to that. You can customize wrappers any way you want. For example, the foiled ones come in silver, gold, even red. Deli wrap can be translucent, have a checkerboard pattern, and be any color. You can even put your logo on it.”
“But this isn’t customized?”
“Like I said, it’s hard to tell. Especially with such a small piece. If I had the whole thing…” He let his voice trail off.
“This is all I’ve got. Could it be one of yours?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Is there a catalogue of different wraps and who makes them?”
“It’s complicated. Each manufacturer, even each food-service company, has their own.”
“Is there a way to check them and see who makes this one? Online, for example?”
“Frankly, if you’re not in the business, it would be hard. I mean, you could, but you probably would get frustrated. Too many choices.”
Georgia didn’t reply.
He straightened. “This a heater case?”
She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” He looked almost gleeful.
He’d misinterpreted her silence. She should correct him. Before she could, though, he jumped in. “I have an idea. Can I keep this?”
Georgia was about to say no when he cut her off. “No, of course I can’t. You have to send it in for prints and stuff. Unless you already have…” He paused, his expression as hopeful as a puppy’s.
She shook her head. “Sorry. I can’t let you keep it.” She reached for the wrapper. It was time to head back. It had been a long shot, anyway. She was gathering her things when he raised his palm.
“Hold on.” Martin rolled back from his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a smartphone. “Let me take a couple of shots.” He smoothed out the wrapper, anchored it with the edge of his book to keep it flat, and shot three or four photos. He checked the
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