Read Online Tahoe Dark (An Owen McKenna Mystery Thriller Book 14) by Todd Borg - Free Book Online

took them into the house and showed them what I’d found, then left them to their work.
     
    Back in the Jeep, I dialed the Incline Village Sergeant.
    “Lori Lanzen,” she answered.
    “Owen McKenna. I’ve got a more thorough report on Jonas.”
    “Shoot.”
    So I gave it all to her, the spilled water, stuff knocked over, the computer, the unfinished letter, the little scrap of torn paper.
    “Any conclusions?” she said.
    “No.”
    “Let me know what you learn,” she said, “and I’ll do the same.”
    We said goodbye.
     
     
     
     
    EIGHT
     
     
    I called Street. She was at her lab.
    “Blondie and I were just about to head home,” she said.
    “Then perhaps I could interest you in a dinner date?” I said. “Something nice?”
    I could almost hear her thinking through her schedule, contemplating whether or not she could meet all of her obligations with the sudden insertion into her schedule of an evening off.
    “I’d even take a shower and switch out my hiking boots for shoes,” I said to sweeten the deal.
    “You really know how to make a girl feel special,” she said. “How about picking me up at seven?”
    “Will do.”
     
    At the appointed hour, Spot and I drove down to Street’s condo. When Street opened the door, he trotted inside, greeted Blondie, then made a circuit of Street’s kitchen, his nose pausing at the microwave and the toaster oven and then lingering at the stove top, nostrils flexing, divining the details of Street’s previous half-dozen meals. Blondie followed him, looking up with a question in her eyes as if to wonder what it was like to be tall enough to reach over counter tops. When it seemed that there was nothing especially vulnerable to a Great Dane’s inspection – no defrosting filet mignon on top of the fridge – I turned to Street.
    She’d recently had her hair tinted to a very dark auburn and cut in a boyish, asymmetrical bob that curled around her face on both sides. It was parted on the left and combed while still wet so that the coarse comb left faint grooves in her hair, a look that was more casual than what a brush would do. Maybe she sported a hint of auburn eye shadow. Maybe her lip gloss had a touch of matching color. I’ve never understood the alchemy of makeup, and I’ve always thought that her attractiveness was intrinsic to her personality and unaffected by the shallower effects of color and hair shape. Street was a scientist, not an actress, and her lack of movie star beauty in no way lessened her appeal to me.
    And tonight, Street’s allure was riveting. She was wearing a satin black top that ended an inch above the waistband of her thin, skin-tight, black pants. On her feet were black shoes that looked like ballet slippers, revealing ankles so perfect that Michelangelo would have struggled to get them right. Artfully draped across her shoulders was a filmy tie-dyed scarf in purple and magenta with hints of orange. It must have been ten feet long.
    “If a breeze comes up and you do a pirouette,” I said, “that scarf will flow like an apparition.”
    “Really?” She held up one end of the scarf, took two fast, long steps across the living room and turned, her hand sweeping the fabric above her head in a large arc. The scarf lofted and traced wave patterns through the air. Street’s elegance and grace were mesmerizing. When the scarf had settled, she saw me looking at her legs.
    “Do you think these leggings are okay?” She looked down as if to see what I saw.
    “Yes, they’re definitely okay,” I said.
    “But you have a look on your face that I can’t place.”
    “I’m just reminded of a Lamborghini we saw in Italy last month. Very sleek but with lots of curves.”
    “I remind you of a car.” Street’s eyes narrowed.
    I shrugged. “It looked fast. No doubt, it was fast.”
    “You think I’m a fast girl.” She made a little frown.
    “Fast with me, anyway,” I said.
    “And the leggings suggest that? Maybe I should wear harem