Last Call - A Thriller (Jacqueline "Jack" Daniels Mysteries Book 10) Read Online Free

collar.
    Katie squatted down behind the large oak, invisible to all except the squirrels, and took out a bag of homemade trail mix. As she ate, she watched and listened.



PHIN
    G oogle informed Phin that Katie had written three books. One about the minds of sexual predators. One about FBI agents who’d died chasing serial killers. And the most recent a biography of the horror author, Andrew Thomas .
    The books had all been self-published, and Phin downloaded all three to the Kindle app on his iPhone. Katie had gotten several hundred reviews, most of them decent. There was a brief bio, saying she lived in Michigan and was working on her next non-fiction title. He followed her website link, which was basically an advertisement for her three books. There was another bio that said practically nothing, but a photo section showed Katie doing various things. In one she wore a karate gi with a black belt. Another had her proudly holding up a stainless steel revolver and a silhouette target, eight holes in the head and ten in the chest, the groupings tight. There were also pics of her in a volunteer firefighter uniform, and at the Tough Mudder endurance race in Tahoe.
    A hard, capable person, who seemed to have been telling the truth.
    Phin dialed Jack’s office.
    “McGlade and Daniels, private investigators,” said a falsetto voice. “This is Mr. McGlade’s personal secretary. May I help you?”
    “Stop acting stupid, McGlade. You don’t have a personal secretary.”
    Harry went back to using his normal voice. “I wish I did. This thing won’t suck itself.”
    “Nice.”
    “Like it? I’m thinking of having T-shirts made. So what’s up? The old lady is out of town, so you want to go tomcatting around town? Hit a few strip joints, get a few lap dances, then drink so much we start talking about our feelings? I’d be up for that.”
    Phin got an unwelcome image in his head. Chubby, unshaven, unkempt McGlade, his thousand dollar suit wrinkled and drenched in aftershave, being grinded on by some young dancer who no doubt wanted to eat a gun and end it all.
    He forced away the picture and asked, “What did you tell Katie Glente?”
    “You never want to hang out. Or call to say hello. If I didn’t know you had a man-crush on me, I’d be feeling hurt. If I had feelings.”
    “Katie Glente, McGlade. She just came to see you. What did you tell her?”
    “That writer chick? The usual. That I’m two inches longer than I actually am, and that story about how I ran into George Clooney at the Emmy Awards after-party. I left out the part where he told his security guards to beat me up. I was really unhappypants after that.”
    “Did you tell her anything about Jack?”
    “Just the stuff that’s already public knowledge; she’s mean-spirited, she’s got crow’s feet, she can fit her whole fist in her mouth. Some of the old cop stories.”
    Phin clenched his jaw. “Did you tell her where we lived?”
    “Of course not. Think I’m an idiot?”
    “Everyone thinks you’re an idiot.”
    “Yeah? So why am I a member of Mensa?”
    “You cheated on the qualification exam.”
    “I certainly did. Put one over on those stuck-up, snooty, intellinazis. I fooled smart people, ergo I can’t be an idiot. It’s simple math. Or something.”
    “Okay, smart guy, so why am I calling you right now?”
    I could practically hear the gears turn in McGlade’s pointy head. “The Glente chick showed up at your house.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did you tap that ass? She was a little thin, but had some fire in her eyes. If you did, I won’t tell Jack. I made a pass, but she obviously wasn’t into guys with high IQs. So she’d probably dig you.”
    “Did you run a background check?”
    “Strange woman, comes snooping around asking questions about Luther Kite? Of course I ran her. No priors. Went through the NCIC, and Interpol, and some big cities. Also ran her prints.”
    Harry rarely impressed Phin. He rarely impressed anybody. But getting