Mr. Softee Read Online Free Page B

shoulders and chest. She wore white stretch pants that must have been sprayed on. A bouncing halter top sort of affair about four sizes too small was stretched as tight as possible and still failed to cover.
    Her feet, with painted toenails and gold toe rings were strapped to jeweled, spike-heeled sandals. The heels forced her to take very tiny steps. The slightest hint of a tiny red thong occasionally showed through the stretch pants as she wiggled down the long hall.
    She turned and went through a large entry with a sliding door . The elaborate woodwork surrounding the massive doorway was carved with a series of ice-cream cones.
    “Precious, th at man is here,” she said to Mr. Softee who was propped up in a hospital bed in front of the window. He had what appeared to be a walking cast on his left leg and a phone against his right ear. He gave a perfunctory nod in my direction then continued shouting into his phone.
    “No, didn’t you hear me the first time? I told you we’ll have to push it back by at least a week. I can’t get a straight answer out of any of these quacks. They’re telling me months. I don’t have that kind of time. So move it back a week, to next Wednesday.”
    As he shouted I glanced around the study. All four walls had elegant, dark wooden bookcases standing to a height of about seven feet. The remaining seven feet, up to the elaborate plaster ceiling was covered with oil paintings in heavy gilt frames, all horses. I guessed each painting was probably worth more than my reported take in any given year. Eventually, Mr. Softee screamed into the phone then hung up and glared at me.
    “ So, tell me what you found out, well?” he snarled, then dialed his phone and slapped it against his ear.
    I could have told him that the few people I had spoken with referred to him as a bastard, a prick, a butt hole, someone ruthless and difficult. Not exactly a ringing personality endorsement, not that Mr. Softee would have cared.
    “Well sir, it’s not quite that simple. Bit more of a complex issue …”
    “ Gary, hang on, I’m dealing with some bullshit, here,” he spit into his phone, then glared at me again.
    “You got a name for me?”
    “A name?”
    “Jesus save me!” he sighed. “Do you know who did this? Any idea who tried to kill me?”
    “I’m not sure anyone did try . Like I said yesterday, it could have been a simple hit-and-run. I’ve barely gotten start …”
    “Barely gotten started ! Is that what you were going to say? What the hell do you think I’m paying you to do? Stand around looking stupid? You got that part down. Get your ass out of here and find out who in the hell was behind this.”
    “I’ll see you out,” Lola was on her feet taking tiny steps toward the door.
    “Yeah , Gary!” Softee was back on the phone as we exited the room. “No just some idiot who can’t get the job done. I know, I know…”
    We were a lmost to the front door. I was thinking of the dogs when I wasn’t thinking of Lola walking ahead of me.
    “You have to excuse him, he’ s usually such a little pussycat,” she said turning toward me and giving me a little shoulder shrug that caused a lot of bouncing and ended in a big smile.
    I was ha ving a tough time with all of it.
    “Look, Mrs. Sofmann…”
    “Oh, please, call me Lola I’d like that,” she half whispered, just the hint of a raised eyebrow.
    “Okay, look Lola, to tell you the truth, I’ll check things out, but I want to be up front . I’m just not sure there’s anything here. The fact that your husband didn’t file a police report doesn’t help matters. The people I have talked to really can’t see anyone trying to hurt him to improve their ice-cream business. It just doesn’t seem to add up.”
    “T he ice-cream business?” she asked.
    “Yeah, right . Why, is there something else I should know about?”
    “Well , we have a lot of investments, property, that sort of thing.”
    I got the feeling she was being