Denton - 01 - Dead Folks' Blues Read Online Free Page A

morning.”
    “What did they say?”
    “The first time, a voice asked to speak to Connie, and he wasn’t home. I asked who it was. The man wouldn’t say. He just hung up. The second time was yesterday. Same voice. He asked to speak to Connie, and when I said he wasn’t home, the man asked if Connie had gotten the letter.”
    “What’d you do?”
    “I panicked, I guess. I asked who it was and he said ‘never mind,’ that Dr. Fletcher would know who he was and he’d goddamn better take the note seriously.”
    She looked me directly in the eyes, the clear blue of hers shimmering in my office light. “That’s when I started looking for you.”
    I shifted uneasily in the chair. I wasn’t at all sure this was something I wanted to take on. To begin with, I didn’t much care for the s.o.b., and on top of that, I had a feeling that if I started getting involved with Rachel Fletcher again, I might want to get involved with Rachel Fletcher again.
    The office suddenly seemed very stuffy. “Have you talked to Conrad about this? Does he know you’re here?”
    “Heavens, no. If he did, he’d blow a fuse. Things haven’t been going so well with us these past few years. What with his work and all. We don’t spend much time with each other. And when he’s not working, he’s always off somewhere else. Gambling, apparently.”
    “This isn’t an easy question, Rachel, but I’ve got to ask it. Is there another woman in here anywhere?”
    She looked as if her face had just gone numb and she was afraid to raise her hand to her cheek, afraid she wouldn’t be able to feel anything, afraid she wouldn’t be there anymore.
    “I don’t think so,” she whispered. “I don’t know.”
    “So what do you want me to do, Rachel?”
    She hesitated, fumbling with her still-lit cigarette butt, wondering what to do with it.
    “Just mash it on the floor,” I suggested. “I’m afraid I don’t have an ashtray. Sorry.”
    She dropped the cigarette. I watched her right knee swivel back and forth as she ground the butt out.
    “Could you find out who he owes the money to? And how much?” There was a pleading tone to her voice, a tone more vulnerable than any I’d heard out of her. “Whatever it is, I’ll see that it’s paid. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
    “I may have to talk to Conrad,” I said.
    “No, please. At least don’t tell him we’ve spoken. If you have to talk to him, make it look like some other reason. I can’t have him finding out that I know what’s going on with him.”
    “If he truly has a gambling problem, he’s going to need some help.”
    “I’ll deal with that after this is over. For now, I just don’t want him to get hurt. Please help me get through this, Harry. Then we’ll work on getting Connie straightened out.”
    “You’re going to protect him, right? You’re going to fix things for him. The twelve-steppers would call you the Enabler.”
    She flared. “I ta hiring you in a professional capacity, Harry, but not as a therapist. That’s something else we can deal with when the time’s right. For now, do you want to help or not?”
    “Rachel, I—”
    “Of course, I’m going to pay your standard rate.” She reached into her purse again, this time drawing forth an expensive leather wallet with some kind of designer medallion on it. I didn’t recognize the brand; out of my league. She pulled out a fanfold of hundred dollar bills.
    “Rachel, that’s not—”
    “Don’t be silly. Are you going to tell me you can afford to work for free? What’s your rate?”
    I’ll give her this much; she’d become a lot tougher since we used to date in college. I guess life with a doctor’ll do that to you.
    “Two-fifty a day, plus expenses.”
    She counted off a stack of green, leafy bills. “Here’s enough for a week, with an extra fifty thrown in to cover extras. We’ll settle up when you find out who these bastards are.”
    “Rachel, are you sure you wouldn’t be better