Read Online Paloma: A Laurent & Dove Mystery by Linda A. Lavid - Free Book Online

bar.  
    Two men, one old, one young, sat huddled together. Overturned shot glasses were lined up in front of them. At the older man’s elbow lay some bills. Would she be able to pull it off? What choice did she have? She left the phone area and walked behind the row of stools. Not surprising, a wallet was outlined in the back pocket of the younger man’s trousers. With all systems go, she followed a neon arrow that lit the way to the ladies’ room.
    Standing in front of a wavy mirror, Paloma peered at her face. Ugh. Death warmed over. She unzipped her bag and rummaged for lipstick and mascara. After putting some color on her face, she fluffed her hair and stood back. The red lipstick and smoky eyes were an improvement. As for the hair, it would have to do. Before leaving, she draped a sweater over her unzipped bag.
    Returning to the bar, Paloma slid between the two men. “Excuse me,” she said to the bartender. “Could I have a glass of water?”
    “Want ice in it?”
    “Yes, that’d be great.”
    Stepping back, she smiled brightly. “I’m sorry, were you two talking?”
    The older man grinned. “Don’t worry about it. When ya got a thirst, nothin’ can stop ya.”
    Paloma agreed, then bobbed her head as if trailing a lost dog. She turned to the men. “Have either of you seen a man with a Mets hat?”
    The younger man, the one whose wallet she had noticed, shrugged. 
    “What does he look like?” asked the older guy.
    “I’m not sure. It’s the first time we’re meeting.”
    “Blind date?”
    Paloma nodded. “Maybe he saw me and walked out.”
    “Naw, he wouldn’t do that. How do you know him?”
    The bartender placed a large tumbler of ice water in front of her.
    “On-line.”
    “Does he know what you look like?”
    She reached for the water. “Only by my description.”
    “Maybe he’s running late.”
    With the glass in hand, Paloma gauged the distance, the timing. All she needed was a distraction, perhaps the slam of a door, a shout. She nodded. “Yes, that’s possible.”                         Suddenly, the front door was pulled open and a shaft of sunlight filled the room. She jerked around, ostensibly to see who might be entering, when, loosening her grip, the glass of ice water became airborne and crashed to the floor.
    The young man jumped from the stool. “What the –” 
     Paloma reared back in feigned disbelief. The man’s pant leg was soaked. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”   
     “Damn,” he said. 
    She pulled a stack of cocktail napkins from the bar. “God, I’m such a klutz. Let me help,” and pressed the wad against his leg. A stroke here, a pull there. In seconds his wallet was in her open bag.
    He slapped her hand aside. “I can handle this.”
    “Calm down, Lennie,” said the older guy. “It’s only water.”
    Paloma shifted around and cleaned the spill on the bar, moving the stack of money from one spot to another. “I’m just so nervous.”
    “Just get the hell away.”
    “Hey, Lennie,” the older guy said. “Give the lady a break. It was an accident.”
    “I’m really sorry, sir.” 
    The young man reinstalled himself onto the stool. “Whatever.”
    Holding the soaked napkins, she called out to the bartender. “Where can I put these?”
    “Leave ’em on the bar.”
    Paloma placed the wet clump down, apologized again and headed for the door. Crossing the room, her heart pounded. With deliberation, she walked slowly. A scampering thief was a dead giveaway. About to push the door that led outside, a voice called out, “Hey, lady.”
    Blood whooshed inside her head. If she had two good legs, she would have busted out. Instead, she held her breath and turned. “Yes?”
    The older guy was walking toward her. “Show me your hands.”
    “My hands?” Internally, she recoiled but held them out. 
    He reached over and placed some bills into her outstretched palm. “Get yourself something nice.”
    Her wrist shook. “No,