Damaged Goods Read Online Free

already there. Hannibal wondered if they were designated business and pleasure, or maybe friend and foe.
    â€œHere’s the deal,” Blair said, leaning in toward Hannibal. “A friend of mine was robbed of something very valuable to them by someone they trusted. This item could make a worldof difference to my friend’s life, you know? I need to find the thief and get the item returned. Do you like puzzles, Mr. Jones?”
    â€œYou called me about someone else’s problem?”
    â€œWell, I can afford your fee, Mr. Jones,” Blair said. “My friend can’t, you know?
    But they saw you in the Zei Club last weekend and told me you were the man who could help them.”
    â€œI see. Is she particularly close to you?”
    Blair had to be a canny businessman, but Hannibal figured he must be an awful poker player. “Did I say she?”
    â€œNo,” Hannibal said. “You said they. If it was a man you’d have said ‘he’ easily enough. I just want to know how personal this is for you.”
    The lady involved is my cleaning lady, if you must know. No romantic connection or anything like that. But I like and respect her very much, and I want her to have what’s hers, you know? And it is a puzzle.”
    â€œIs the missing item of great value financially?”
    â€œI’m not really sure,” Blair said, standing. “I know it was a gift from her father, and I know he wasn’t wealthy. Besides, I don’t want you to think this is a money thing to me. Piece of fruit?” Blair was poking in the refrigerator again. It was as orderly as a supermarket cooler. Hannibal noticed that the kitchen held no smell at all, not even of breakfast, and thought the cleaning woman must be quite special indeed.
    â€œI know you’re not all about the money,” he said to Blair’s back. “That Lexus in your driveway has to be six years old.”
    â€œYou’re pretty observant,” Blair said, tossing an orange to Hannibal. “You must like puzzles too. I think you’re the right guy for this treasure hunt.”
    â€œAnd just what is the treasure?” Hannibal asked, accepting the paper towel Blair offered him.
    Blair regained his seat and set to peeling his orange over his own paper towel. “Don’t really know. Ms. Cooper told me her father left her a treasure map to what he promised would be a pot of gold. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t being literal, but what ever it is, the thief probably has it now. Find the thief,you find the treasure.”
    Blair was popping orange sections into his mouth while his eyes wandered out the window. Hannibal, slowly peeling his own orange, felt he was also slowly peeling away the layers of his host’s mystery. He wondered if this guy suffered from attention deficit disorder or hyperactivity.
    â€œYes, well to do that I’ll have to talk to the lady who’s been robbed. I have to know if there’s enough to go on for me to even take the case.”
    â€œNaturally,” Blair said, standing. “Wait here. I’ll have Franklin bring her in.”
    â€œShe’s here?” Hannibal asked, also getting to his feet. But Blair was already bouncing out of the room. Hannibal stood confused for just a moment. Then the butler entered from the living room. The woman following him stopped behind a chair.
    â€œMiss Anita Cooper,” the butler announced just before he withdrew.

-3-
    As silences go, this one was pretty awkward. Anita Cooper was a small woman, certainly less then a hundred pounds and no more than an inch over five feet tall. She was blessed with shiny black skin and the small nose, full lips, high cheekbones and erect carriage Hannibal associated with pictures of ancient Egyptian princesses.
    â€œMister Blair said you wanted to talk to me?”
    â€œI understood that you needed some help,” Hannibal said, finally biting into his orange. It was so