Read Online See No Evil by Gayle Roper - Free Book Online

relentlessly onto the Seaside, New Jersey, beach. Even that red shirt with the little pony over the heart was a disguise. He’d never wear one of those preppy rags. He’d go naked first. And khaki slacks? He shuddered.
    Basic black was his color. Black jeans, black T, black athletic shoes and socks. If he had to get dressed up, like for a funeral or to eat at some fancy-schmancy restaurant, he had his black cashmere sports coat. When winter came, he had his black leather bomber. If it was unbearably cold, there was the black down jacket.
    The Man in Black. Just like Johnny Cash. Too bad he couldn’t sing like Cash, but then Cash, if he was still alive, couldn’t kill like him. Dar grinned. To each his own.
    He could still see her horrified expression when she saw his gun. His grin broadened. She probably thought she was very fortunate to have escaped with her life. She probably spent the night thanking her lucky stars.
    He laughed out loud. Like he’d ever miss. If he’d wanted, she’d be as dead as the other one. But all he’d needed to do was scare her so he’d have plenty of time to drive away.
    Even if she’d seen him leaving, he’d been driving the black Taurus with the Pennsylvania plate with the scene of the old square-rigged warships fighting on it. The numbers and letters on the plate were impossible to read because they blended so well with the picture. Everything was beige. The plate was registered to Jon Paul Jones, just like the false registration and insurance papers, all with a phony Pennsy address. If anybody ever tried to trace the address, they’d end up at the credit union in South Coatesville.
    Dead end.
    The Taurus was tucked away in New Jersey, in Tuckahoe in a garage behind the house of a little old lady who was asdaffy as they came. Every month an automatic bill payer sent her a check under his phony name, Jon Paul Jones. He kept just enough cash in the account in a Tuckahoe bank to pay her.
    He turned from the window and slipped on a pair of black flip-flops because in August, the beach was too hot to walk on barefooted. He already wore his black swim trunks. He grabbed his black beach towel, draped it around his neck, and let himself out. He carried Lawrence Block’s latest Bernie Rhodenbarr book. He loved reading about the thief, and he got some good ideas too.
    Today he was rewarding himself for a job well done. He’d already put the ten thou for completing last night’s job in the bank, joining the ten grand he’d gotten when taking the contract. Today was a day for sun and sand and the blissful relaxation of the well-satisfied. This evening he’d take himself to Moe’s, his favorite hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant, then head for Atlantic City. Maybe he’d even splurge and allow himself a hundred dollars for playing the slots. He’d never be foolish enough to head for the high-stakes tables. He’d worked too hard for the dough, and as far as he was concerned, real gambling was too much like dumping your money into a shredder.
    He had two other hit jobs in the queue, but they could wait a day or two. Neither had a time aspect, like some hits he did where a witness had to go before the trial date or something. These two were the plain I-hate-the-target-kill-him type.
    Forget the woman who’d seen him. Besides, if she made any trouble, he knew where to find her.

SIX
    I perched on the front of the love seat in the living room and read the article in the News very carefully. I stared at the picture of Gray and me again. “It doesn’t say anything about me seeing the killer. That’s good, huh?”
    â€œIf he doesn’t see the paper,” Gray muttered, clearly unhappy.
    And if he did? “I suddenly feel like I’ve got a bull’s-eye painted on my back.” I shivered.
    Gray was slouched on Meg’s blue-and-cream striped sofa, ankles and arms crossed, head thrown back, eyes