Freudian Slip Read Online Free

more firmly by the hand and half pulled him through the door. The two of them were now invisible visitors in a small one-bedroom apartment near Washington Square Park. Two policemen in uniform stood in the middle of the messy living room.
    â€œThere she is,” Gus gestured toward a brunette with hair to the middle of her back, neither thin nor plump, with rosy apple cheeks and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She clutched a tissue and looked around her apartment as if in shock.
    â€œCan you see anything immediately missing?” the female officer asked, a notebook open, pen poised.
    The brunette shook her head. “The TV. But other than that…it’s just the mess. My jewelry box is gone, but my good jewelry I kept in the freezer—I saw it on a TV show once and always have done that. I just checked. It’s still there. They didn’t take much. My dog must have scared them.” Then she started crying. “And now she’s gone.”
    â€œYour dog?” The second officer looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry. That’s difficult.”
    â€œWhen they left, they must have…let her out. Will you guys look for her?”
    â€œRealistically…this is New York City. We have hundreds of break-ins. Thousands. What kind of dog?”
    â€œA little Yorkie. Just the kind of dog someone would scoop up and keep.” The woman sat down and started sobbing. The two officers shifted on their feet, looking uncomfortable.
    Julian stared at Gus. “You’re telling me I have to solve a dognapping? Give me a break. This isn’t a crisis. You know how many people get robbed a day?”
    Gus shook his head. “You need to pay attention. This is just the end of a very, very horrible day.”
    Julian and his Guide watched as the officers handed the woman a form and a card with a number to call to follow up on her case. The cops let themselves out. Julian watched as the woman wandered into her bedroom and tried to fix her mattress, which had been tossed on the floor. She started crying harder, the sounds changing from sniffles to guttural sobs. She unbuttoned the back of her skirt to change out of her work clothes. While she was undressing, Gus tugged on Julian’s arm. “Give her some privacy.”
    Disappointed at missing a free peep show,Julian followed Gus to the living room. The woman emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, in a black sports bra and gym shorts. She straightened up a bit, returning knocked-over lamps and a spilled basket of magazines to their rightful positions, then opened a bottle of white wine with a shaking hand. Soon, she was lying on the floor of her apartment, a box of tissues and a now half-empty bottle of white wine next to her.
    â€œShe’s beautiful,” Julian said, moving closer to her. “But she’s a mess. What’s wrong with her? Why is she crying? Besides the break-in? What happened to her today? This can’t all be over a Yorkie and a television set. So what is it?”
    â€œThat’s for you to find out, my boy. And solve. Julian Shaw, meet Kate Darby.”

CHAPTER THREE
    K ATE D ARBY LISTENED to Stevie Nicks’s plaintive wailing on “Beautiful Child” for the hundredth time. This had to be the worst night of her life. Only, she knew it wasn’t. There had been worse nights. Worse weeks. Worse years. But this ranked up there with one of the most colossal bad days ever.
    â€œOkay, God…what do you have against me?” she said aloud. “It wasn’t bad enough to walk in on them in bed together? Lose the love of my life. And my best friend. In one day.” She rolled over on her belly and flopped her face against her forearm and started crying all over again. “Apartment robbed. Place trashed. But the dog, God? My little Honey? Christ…this is the worst night of my life.” Then Stevie finished her ode, and Kate pressed the button