Titanoboa Read Online Free Page A

neatly on a hill between other massive houses, was no more than ten miles away. Something they called McMansions back in Los Angeles.
    He parked about a hundred feet from the house. There were no gates here. Back in L.A., a home like this, with all the luxuries sitting around inside, would be gated off with night security around. But here, there was little to fear from people. The biggest dangers were the undertow and the mosquitoes.
    Hiking up the winding driveway, a folder tucked under his arm, the amount of space struck him. The mansion probably contained nine or so bedrooms. Nine bedrooms for a middle-aged couple with no kids. While back in town, in what was considered the slums of the city—though really, even the slums were better than many nicer parts of other cities—people crammed into tenements. Five or ten at a time in a one-bedroom tenement.
    Mark noticed a deep gold trim at the tops of the porch’s Corinthian columns. He looked to them as he knocked on the door. A woman wearing white, almost see-through pants and a white top with a tan belt answered. She was holding a wine glass filled with an amber drink.
    “Mark,” she said with a hint of surprise in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
    “No, sorry. I shoulda called first. But I thought I would just pop in and see if you were here.”
    “You’re getting soaked, poor thing. Come in.”
    The interior of the home was even more impressive. A mixture of glass, black and white furniture, expensive paintings, and a staircase with no railing leading to the second floor. The artwork was not in Mark’s usual sphere. He didn’t recognize them but somehow knew they were originals and worth a heck of a lot more than he would probably ever make in his life.
    “It’s about your husband, Callie.”
    “Did you find something?” She sat down on the couch.
    He got the impression he was supposed to sit next to her but opted instead to sit on the leather recliner next to a glass coffee table. “I did. I’m afraid your suspicions were correct.” He pulled out the folder and laid several photos on the coffee table. Her husband kissing his mistress, her husband grabbing her butt as they entered a store, her husband walking into a hotel with her. “Sorry, Callie. I know this is hard to take.”
    She sipped the wine then sighed. “No, no it was expected. He’s an ass. And this isn’t the first time. I’m preparing for a divorce. I’m just waiting to get back to Connecticut , and I’ll file first. This is just additional… whatever.”
    “Oh. Well, I’m sorry just the same.”
    She sipped her wine again, her gaze glued to him. He grew uncomfortable and decided it was time to leave.
    “I’ll email you the reports and the photos today. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.”
    “You’re leaving? Stay a little bit. Join me for a glass of wine.”
    “I gotta get back to the city. Have some things to catch up on.” He rose. “Again, call me if you need anything.”
    “Mark?” She placed her hand on his arm. “I would really like if you stayed. Not as part of the job. Just as a… friend.”
    “Um… I better not. I really do have to get back.”
    Her face lost the softness of just a moment ago. Her lips turned to straight lines, and her eyes narrowed. “Fine. Go.”
    A t the door, he heard her say something but didn’t stay to find out what. Callie didn’t strike him as a woman that was used to rejection, and he didn’t know how she would react. Probably not pay her bill, at the least. He had to change tactics and start taking payments up front.
    As he walked to the car, another vehicle came up the driveway. Callie’s husband, Richard. He stopped his black Mercedes and rolled down the window. Mark kept his head down and kept walking. Hoping he could just slide by.
    “Excuse me,” Richard said. “Do I know you?”
    “No.”
    “Hey, wait a second, I’m talking to you. What’re you doing at my