Back Bad Guys
Chapters (46)
  1. Title Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Acknowledgments
  44. About the Author
  45. Also by Linwood Barcalay
  46. Copyright Page

“She knows how to take care of herself. If she thinks there’s a real problem, she’ll tell you.”

“Maybe,” I said, not with much conviction.

“Listen, she’ll be okay. How’s Paul? Still gardening?”

“Not quite as much as before we moved. He still gets his hands dirty now and then, but he spends a lot of time in front of the computer now. And he’s working on getting his driver’s license.”

“Next time you’re out this way, let me know. We’ll get caught up.”

“I’m actually headed out that way today, around lunch, with my detective friend, to go to a government auction.”

“Lunch today won’t work. My first client’s coming around then. Which reminds me, I’ve got to iron my Girl Scout troop leader outfit, and dig out my matching stilettos.”

“Girl Scout leaders wear stilettos?”

“This one’s going to be. Oh shit, that reminds me, I hope I still have some of their cookies around. I put a box in the freezer… .” She was on the cordless and I could hear her walking around the house. “Here we go, yeah, I’ve got them. Gotta give them time to defrost.”

“Your client likes to eat Girl Scout cookies?”

“Well, let’s just say they help complete the scene for him.”

“I should let you go,” I said. “Thanks for listening.”

I puttered around the house for the next three hours, until I heard a car pull into the driveway. I stepped out onto the front porch and saw a blue four-door Jaguar sedan. Lawrence was easing himself out the front door.

“The Buick’s in the shop, getting a new rear window,” he explained. I locked up the house, got into the Jag, buckled up, and ran my hand over the leather upholstery, the walnut inlays in the dash.

“Nice,” I said.

“Used to belong to a Jamaican guy ran the drug trade in the north end. Agents busted him, seized pretty much everything he owned, and I got it when they auctioned it off. You looking for a Jag?”

“I don’t know that I’m looking for anything, but if I were it wouldn’t be a Jag. Head office says we can’t afford one at the moment.”

“Head office?”

“Sarah.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t even bring my checkbook, in case I get tempted.”

“Yeah, well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’ve got mine, you could pay me back after.”

“I don’t know. Sarah was sort of weakening toward the end there, talking about a convertible, but I think she was briefly delusional. She really doesn’t want me to spend the money.”

“This is one of those times when it pays to be gay. I don’t get pussy-whipped,” Lawrence said.

“No significant other?” I asked.