Going to the Bad Read Online Free Page B

exactly—and of course insurance. When I’d finished those forms, I resumed checking my phone’s messages and got a shock.
    â€œLittle Sister, it’s Bud.” Even through the phone’s crummy speaker I could tell his voice was hoarse and tired. “If you’re not answerin’, then I figure you’re at work. Rod’s down visitin’ his folks, right? I’m usin’ the Oildale house for a meetin’. Just wanted to make sure I’d have some privacy.”
    I glanced at the patrol officer. I started to wave him over so he could listen to the message. Bud’s own words stopped me.
    â€œI got a situation needs tendin’ and I need to be discreet like. The Law might not take kindly to this one, and it’s best to keep you and Rod out of it.”
    â€œThe Law” could only mean the police. Bud had a long history of shady schemes that skirted legality, but he’d vowed off those kinds of deals when he’d moved in with Annette and her daughter. Had he relapsed?
    Bud continued, “Don’t come home till you hear from me. I’m real serious, Little Sister.” The recording ended.
    I knew that I should forward the message to Handsome. He’d be trying to build a timeline of events, and the call might help. On the other hand, it sounded as though Bud had been doing something he didn’t want the police to find out about.
    Bud’s girlfriend, Annette, arrived and interrupted my internal debate. As we hugged, I got a noseful of Chanel No. 5. It, and the nice dress she wore, reminded me of what Annette had been like when we’d first met.
    Reeling from her daughter’s terrible diagnosis, her husband’s abandonment, and mounting financial troubles, Annette had exploited a flurry of attention from the media about her daughter’s illness. I much preferred the jeans-wearing, down-to-earth woman I’d got to know as my uncle’s girlfriend. I suspected her dressing up now, before coming to the hospital, was a way of coping with extreme stress.
    Leanore kindly offered to go get coffee from the commissary while I filled Annette in on Bud’s condition. Once I’d told her the little we knew, I gently maneuvered Annette to the opposite side of the room from the officer. He couldn’t follow us without making his eavesdropping obvious.
    â€œDo you know what Bud was doing at my place this morning? Was he involved in anything illegal?”
    â€œIllegal?” The way she said the word was both a denial and a rebuke for even thinking it was possible.
    â€œBud has a history. Between you and me, was he doing anything he didn’t want the police to know about?”
    â€œBud wasn’t doing anything illegal, I’m sure.” She straightened the green wool fabric of her dress. “But he was upset yesterday. I’ve never seen him in such a panic.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound like Bud. I’ve seen him cracking jokes while narrowly escaping death.” This wasn’t an exaggeration. I literally had. “What happened to set him off?”
    â€œHe went out shopping for Christmas presents yesterday morning. Something he saw at one of the pawnshops upset him, butthat’s all he’d tell me. I don’t know what the item was or why it was so disturbing.”
    â€œPawnshops?”
    She gave me a sheepish smile. “That’s where Bud likes to shop. I realize how it sounds, but he knows all the owners. He’s bought and sold for decades.”
    I didn’t want to know the origin of the things he’d pawned over the years. Bud was never himself a crook, but he’d have no problem acting as middleman for shady merchandise. “What exactly happened when he came home from the pawnshops?”
    â€œLike I said, he wouldn’t tell me much. Bud ran right into the bedroom and started making phone calls. Then he went out again and never came back.”
    â€œWhere did he