Read Online Vic Daniel 6 - As she rides by by David M Pierce - Free Book Online Page B

Melody, and their boss. Although I became intimately familiar with the whole process, I will at this juncture merely pass on a few tricks of the trade, as we professionals do like to keep some small portion of our hard-won lore to ourselves. So remember, ladies, remove all thorns and foliage that will be below the moisture level, to prevent rotting. Make your new stem cut at as sharp an angle as possible. To promote longevity, us pros then plunge the stem into hot water, and then, when it cools, into the fridge goes the bloom for a few hours. Of course, if you use florist’s foam, do remember to soak it thoroughly first. And, as my final tip, try a sprinkle of 7-Up or Sprite in the water.
    With the soaking up of such arcane tidbits did I pass the hours. Also with the taking out for several walks of King, which gave me a good chance to take a hard look around. I saw nothing that looked particularly frightening, except the prices in some in the store windows and a white poodle with a diamond-studded collar and shocking-pink toenails, the same hue as its owner’s. Adorable. Some of the shoppers looked scary, too, but maybe I was just jealous. Maybe. At first I didn’t see anyone who looked like what I thought Phil and Ted might look like, then I began suspecting every male I passed, even the ones in knee-length shorts, but that I put down to either paranoia or the fact that I was in Beverly Hills, after all, where one could rightly suspect the inhabitants of almost everything.
    The boutique closed at seven; shortly thereafter, Phineas switched on what security devices he had, which weren’t many, by my expert reckoning, but I knew Beverly Hills was notoriously well policed and anyway, who’s going to break in to steal a couple of dozen Hypericum patulumal (Saint-John’s-wort to you.)
    I couldn’t see anyone following us when we drove in convoy around the corner, where Phineas made a night deposit at his bank—of a hefty sum, too, I might add, because I’d watched him total it up—nor could I observe anyone tailing us north on Rodeo Drive to Hartford Way and then onto Pamela Drive, where Phineas resided, and then into his one-car carport by the side of the house.
    We dined at home, although not by candlelight, and not even in the dining room, but perched on stools in the kitchen. Not before, however, I’d made myself highly conspicuous again by walking the dog around the house several times, then taking him up and down Pamela Drive for a couple of hundred yards each way. And, amigos, you’d better have a dog when you go for a stroll in those parts, and a local address you either are living at or visiting, because sure as shooting you’ll be stopped by local fuzz asking you politely but firmly to please assume the position, and then questions will follow.
    They would be equally suspicious of any vehicle with two men inside parked out on the street for hours at a stretch, but unfortunately for us there was a legitimate spot to park just in sight of Phineas’s maison, which King and I’d investigated during our stroll. Beverly Hills isn’t only Rodeo Drive and film stars’ mansions, it’s also hills. Hence the name, one might say. Our street led to the top of such a hill, on which was a small park, a wooden gazebo, and a little lookout affair, and as it was open to the public, the public could park there for as long as they wanted if they didn’t litter, play loud music, or tamper with the flora, or so the sign said.
    Anyway. We dined on leftovers. I should have such leftovers in my icebox—salmon mousse, chicken a la something served with green mayonnaise and white asparagus, a choice of six flavors of Haagen-Dazs ice cream, and then coffee and twelve-year-old Armagnac for them that wanted, and we both did. King had to suffer with a plate of cold roast beef. Naturally, we left the dirty plates in the sink for the maid.
    Afterwards, I watched sports, with the sound low, on one of those TV screens that are about