Motor Mouth (Alex Barnaby 2)

“Let me guess. Jersey?”

“Not for a lot of years.”

“But originally, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you never really get rid of the Jersey in you.”

I stuck my hand out. “Alex.”

“Simon.”

“Where are you living now?”

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“The world.”

“That narrows it down,” I said.

“My employer travels, and I travel with him.”

“Is your employer originally from New Jersey, too?”

“Yeah. Originally.”

He was looking down at me, and there was a quality to his eyes and the set of his mouth that I’d seen before. It was the same look Hooker got…a lot. “And now?” I asked.

“The world.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.”

I could see him weighing his desire to stay anonymous against his desire to get a playmate for Mr. Frisky. He shifted slightly, leaned a little closer to me, and I knew Mr. Frisky was at the wheel.

“For the last couple years, we’ve been based in Zurich,” he said.

“That would explain the suit.”

“We ran into some problems when we arrived, and I haven’t had a chance to change. What about you? Do you live here?”

“Sometimes. Mostly I live in the world.”

“Trying to make fun of me?” he asked.

“Trying to flirt with you,” I said. Might as well use the few weapons I had in my arsenal, right? I just hoped Hooker was armed and keeping close watch.

That got a smile from him. “Nice,” he said.

And just for the record, I was fully aware that he would have smiled and said nice if I had scabs over two-thirds of my body and had an ass like Francis the Talking Horse.

“So, what is it that you do in Zurich?” I asked him.

“I’m an expediter.”

In my neighborhood in Baltimore, an expediter is someone who makes sure things move along smoothly. For instance, if the owner of a bar isn’t making his protection-money payments on time, an expediter might go talk to him and break his kneecaps as a performance incentive.

“An expediter,” I said. “What kinds of things do you expedite?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”