The Granite Moth Read Online Free Page A

lucky if he didn’t throw it away.
    With two exceptions—the one who had left and Dolly, still receiving treatment—the entertainers present at the parade were finishing up their statements. I asked them to repeat a few answers after the officers had left.
    â€œToo loud to hear anything—”
    â€œFlames everywhere, you know?”
    â€œWhat death threat?”
    It seemed Big Mamma had been keeping some secrets herself.

CHAPTER THREE
    M y assistant Meeza—fast on her way to becoming a private investigator in her own right—was sprawled on my couch when I got back to the office late that evening. She looked like nothing so much as a coed, from her skinny jeans and tank top to her long sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She was chewing gum and starting intently at her laptop screen.
    â€œPhysics homework?” I teased, dropping my mask into a drawer filled with whiteout, candy wrappers, pushpins, and other useless junk.
    â€œI wish,” she said, closing her browser window and moving the computer aside. “Jimmy’s got swim class at 9 A.M. Who takes swim class as a college freshman?”
    Jimmy Holliday was our client’s son. Mrs. Holliday wanted to make sure that she wasn’t throwing away money on college tuition for her offspring to gallivant around town, a legitimate concern for an eighteen-year-old from Iowa let loose in New York City for the first time. I wasn’t sure that she would be much more pleased with swim classes; those are some expensive butterfly strokes.
    â€œYou know, you don’thave to attend every class,” I said.
    Snagging a college I.D. for Meeza had been one of my more challenging feats. Thankfully at least a few undergrads are still unaware of pickpockets, and hey, I’d returned the wallet. I would survive my remorse at the young woman’s grateful face when I ran after her shouting, “I think you dropped this!” I could even imagine her telling the family at Thanksgiving: “No, you’re wrong. Everyone’s really nice in New York City.”
    â€œYeah, but he’s more likely to skip the early ones, you know? I wish I could sit idly in a lecture. Medieval history would be nice. Or Greek drama maybe.”
    If Meeza wasn’t surprised to see me strolling in at 10 P.M. , I confess that I was surprised to find her working so late and not only because she was expected in a pool lane the next morning. Meeza still lived with her parents in Queens, and they fretted if she didn’t at least check in. These days she had to check in with her boyfriend V.P. as well, and it was clear he didn’t like her new profession. She had once been an underutilized floor secretary for our building, a safe job that had all but bored her into the decision to join me on a case. It wasn’t long before she’d turned in her resignation and rustled up her own customers.
    In an effort to keep an eye on her, V.P. was pestering Meeza to become the office manager for his car rental business, a shady enterprise that trafficked in stolen vehicles and catered to criminals. And people like me. I didn’t like to use my real name for anything I could avoid. My office was leased to one Katya Lincoln, and my apartment to Kate Manning. V.P. didn’t ask for names, let alone proof of insurance. No credit card, no problem. It had worked out well for me until my sweet assistant had her head turned by his so-called ambitions. As if he knew I was thinking ill of him, Meeza’s phone beeped.
    â€œ Mujhe jaana hoga ,I was supposed to meet Vincent five minutes ago!”
    She began throwing her belongings into an oversized bag while I leaned against the door and watched her fret. It didn’t strike me as normal to stress over being late to meet your boyfriend. Couldn’t she text him that she was running behind? “He can wait for a few more minutes.”
    â€œIt’s rude to keep someone waiting,” Meeza