Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

probably just forgotten she’d ordered fake zebra skins or bath powder and imagined the worst. It was probably due to the gin she kept hidden in bottles for a little pick-me-up. A wee nip here, a wee nip there, and by the end of the day she’d pickled her brain. It was amazing no one had caught on in all this time, but if they had, it was one of those things that went politely unmentioned in the family. Like inherited insanity. Most of the time she thought her entire family was nuts. It was uncomfortably close to the truth.
    But this was nothing like her last foray into thievery and flying bullets. This would be quick and easy. And profitable. Her favorite things.
    Time to get back to work and put the weekend’s ordeal behind her. She finished logging in her time for last week, then took the elevator down two flights to the ground floor and parking lot where her trusty little ’91 silver Toyota waited in the shade. Good transportation, one of those cars that were fuel efficient and comfortable. Best of all, it was paid for.
    First, she decided as she juggled the keys and brown backpack she used as a purse, she’d replace her broken cell phone. That was imperative. It was her link to the world.
    Poplar Avenue was busy as always, traffic snarling up on occasion, and she shoved the car into second gear and shot through an orange light at Perkins, clicking on her right turn signal just before reaching the cellular phone store.
    By the time she left, she was nearly two hundred dollars lighter and thirsty. She’d stop for a Coke first, then sign out the van by noon to make her Radisson pickup on time. Tour Tyme housed the company vehicles in a rented garage off Poplar, not far from the main offices. The size vehicle used depended on the size of the tourist group. No point in wasting gas.
    After picking up the van, she headed downtown to the Radisson to pick up her group. They’d be waiting for her in the open-air lobby divided with walls of old brick. Victorian Village wasn’t far from downtown and the river. It was a remnant of life in the nineteenth century. A few houses had been donated to the city and kept up with city funds as a reminder of what life had been like over a hundred years ago. Somehow, the incongruity of the tree-shaded elegance in a tiny pocket right next to Juvenile Court never quite registered with city officials or visitors. Still, the three-story homes held an aura of times gone by, of what it was like to live without modern amenities if you were a wealthy family. None of the hovels from the Pinch District on the river had been restored, she’d noticed. That area had been settled by Irish immigrants in the early- to mid-eighteen hundreds, called Pinch or Pinch-back for the look on residents’ faces and their sunken bellies, a pinched look of hunger and deprivation. Her ancestors had probably been among them at one time. Fortunately for them, not on the nearby slave block, however. A historical marker was the only remnant of the auctions of human beings that used to take place near a backwash of the Mississippi River. A lamentable part of Memphis history.
    It was a nice afternoon, and the women from Michigan were a fun group that enjoyed the sights and made Harley laugh. They were there to enjoy themselves, and had no qualms about saying what they didn’t like. The Magevney House, furnished in period pieces and with an elegance visible despite the under-funding in recent city cutbacks, was always a favorite. There were even delicious rumors of lingering ghosts, and the women were disappointed they didn’t make an appearance during their tour.
    Afterward, Harley took them back to the hotel across the street from the Redbirds’ new baseball stadium. She gave them advice on which sights she thought they’d be more interested in seeing, which Blues clubs on Beale Street they’d enjoy, and reminded them to get to the lobby of The Peabody Hotel before five if they wanted to get good photos of the ducks