Two for Flinching Read Online Free Page B

of
it.”
    “Good. Time to earn your keep.”
    “Finally,” she said. “A chance to
contribute.”
    I dug the laptop out my bag, sat it on the
kitchen table and powered it up. A business card was on the table. Detective Randall Rogers, Indianola Sherriff’s Department. “What’s this?”
    Erin went into the fridge and came out with a
Grapico. “It was stuck in the door when I came in.”
    I turned the card over. Please call me at
your earliest convenience in relation to an ongoing
investigation. We believe you may have some valuable
information.
    I found that kind of odd. If Randy wanted
to talk to me, why not call? I crumpled the card and tossed it
on the table.
    Erin had taken her seat in front of the
computer. “What are we doing?”
    I reached over her and navigated to the Looking4Mine page. My faux knockout had received plenty of
attention since this morning. Fifteen looks and five winks. One of
those winks had been from J-love.
    “Oh goodie,” Erin said. “The honey pot.”
    “That’s you.” I clicked on the J-love profile. “And that’s the fly.”
    “Not really my type.”
    “Mine either. Wink back and let’s see what
develops.”
    I opened the back door and went out onto the
deck. Blondie bounded off into the fenced backyard. I had another
two months—hopefully—until I had to start working on it again. I
fired up the grill and went back inside. If it wasn’t for barbeque
my daughter and I would have starved long ago.
    “That was fast,” Erin said. “He’s already
invited me for an online chat.”
    I wasn’t surprised. I figured this was the
best time to catch Jenks, before he went home and had his wife
looking over his shoulder. Or went to the Chickasaw Inn.
“Perfect.”
    “Can I be a Penelope? I feel like a Penelope
today.”
    “Fine with me. Do your thing?”
    She tapped on the computer. I pulled a pot
from the cabinet, filled it with water, and sat it on the
stove.
    “What’s my story again?”
    “Divorced, looking for fun.
Professional.”
    “What exactly does that mean?
Professional?”
    “Whatever you want it to mean.”
    She pursed her lips in thought. Just like her
mother. “I think I’ll be in the medical field.”
    I took out some pork chops, placed them on a
plate and sprinkled rub on them. I got the box of macaroni, the
margarine and the milk and set them next to the stove. I opened the
door. Blondie rushed in. I scraped the remnants of the last meal
from the grill and went back into the kitchen. Blondie bounded
out.
    “He wants to get together for a drink.”
    “Get a picture first.”
    “Right.” I had done something like this
countless times before, but Erin was much better at it than I was.
Nobody sounds more like a young, attractive woman than a young
attractive woman. I dumped the macaroni in the pot, took the chops
to the grill and put them on. Blondie ran back into the house.
    “Got it.” Erin opened the email. “Not a very
handsome fellow.”
    “Don’t tell him that.”
    “What about that drink?”
    “You doing anything tomorrow night?”
    “I don’t exactly look like Penelope. Do I
have to actually meet this guy?”
    “No. I need you to watch the princess while I
meet him.”
    “Gotcha.” She tapped on the keys.
    “Make sure you save the conversation.”
    “Way ahead of you, Uncle Bees.” More tapping.
“It’s a date.”
    I pulled out my wallet and handed her a
hundred dollar bill.
    “Ooo,” she said. “A paying gig.”
     
    ***
     
    I sat on the back deck looking up at the
stars. Dinner had been eaten and the mess cleaned up, the princess
bathed, stories read, and had finally gone to sleep. Hopefully.
Erin had retired to the master bedroom, presumably to study, but
most likely to talk on the phone in private. It was probably too
cold to sit on the deck. The rum helped.
    This was one of my favorite places on earth,
next to my tree stand and most reliable fishing hole. Naked
dogwoods lined the back of the lot, bushes of unknown origin