One for My Baby (Phoenix Noir Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

sat there drinking Bloody Marys and reading on his tablet.
    As Linda finished delivering food to a table and started to walk back to the kitchen, she saw that another man had joined Casci at the bar. It was Detective Rankin.
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    M ark was in bed, listening to the purring of Pangur Ban on the pillow next to him. He was almost lulled to sleep when he heard the sound his phone made to let him know he had a new text message.
    It was from Suzanne: “Ryan knows everything.”
    No, he doesn’t, Mark thought. He may know about you and me, but he doesn’t know my last name or where I live, and neither do you.
    Another message arrived. It was from Suzanne’s number, but it wasn’t from her: “Hey Mark I have your name, phone number and email. Don't ever contact my wife again!! I'm not one to take this lightly! I have ur pic too. Unless you want a piece of me! Loose her number asshole!”
    Mark responded, “Grow up. And learn to use commas and spell while you’re at it.” He set the phone to silent and fell asleep.
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    W hen he woke , he had a message on Facebook. It was from Linda.

FIVE
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    H e waited for her in Lux, the coffee shop on Central in Uptown. They’d agreed to meet at four, but he got there a half-hour early, wanting to survey the place, but not knowing what he was looking for. He got a cup of green tea that cost more than he would have expected from the setting with its shabby, mismatched chairs and tables with uneven legs. He sat in a chair and pushed its back against a wall. He took a Kindle from his messenger bag and pretended to read it.
    She was a few minutes early. When she stepped inside the door, she took off her sunglasses and looked around. He waved to her and she came over.
    “Hey,” he said, and mustered a smile.
    “Hey.” She didn’t smile and she didn’t sit down.
    “Can I get you something?” he said, standing up.
    “No, thanks. I’ll get it.” She walked to the counter. He sat down again.
    He was pretending to read when she came with a cup of coffee. She sat in a chair facing him. “Service isn’t very friendly here,” she said.
    “I know. If I wanted to be condescended to by tattooed posers, I’d have gone to college.”
    “I did go to college. This is worse.”
    “I thought you must like it here, since you suggested it.”
    “I hardly ever come here.”
    “Where do you like? Where do you usually go?”
    She shook her head, and he realized she had suggested this place because she didn’t want him in her regular place.
    “Okay,” he said.
    “Have you ever had anybody else message you on Facebook after you stuck a gun in their face?”
    He smiled. “I’d say sorry, but I don’t know how you apologize for something like that.”
    She surprised him by smiling too. “You mean there isn’t a standard etiquette for how to follow up an armed robbery?”
    He laughed, but didn’t say anything. Then he just said, “Sorry.”
    “Are you worried that I might be recording you? Is that why you’re not saying anything specific about it?”
    “It occurred to me, of course.”
    “I’m not.”
    “I believe you, but I can’t think of any other reason you’d want to meet me.”
    “I didn’t need to do this if I wanted you in jail. I had my chance, and I lied to the cops. Do you want to know why I did that?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So do I.”
    “You don’t know?”
    “No.”
    “That’s really all I’ve been thinking about the last few days.”
    “Me too,” she said. “I couldn’t wait to identify you, but... I think it was something about you just sitting there, and the cops’ attitudes toward you. Were you afraid?”
    “Sure, but I wasn’t even really letting myself think about what was happening. I was just waiting to see how it would turn out. If I’d let myself think about it, I might have panicked and started babbling. The only thing you should ever say to a cop is that you’re invoking your