Riptide (Sam McRae Mystery 3)

Before Conroy could say a word, she spoke with animation, punctuating her words with thrusts of her hands. Finally, she invited him inside. But not before I snapped a few photos with my cell phone.

“Gotcha!” I said.

*****

Conroy emerged about a half hour later, looking none too happy. He trudged downstairs to his car, got in, started it and was on his way out, when I pulled out and blocked his exit.

Conroy honked the horn and looked annoyed. I unfolded myself from the car and gave him a shit-eating grin.

“Hi,” I said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Conroy’s expression melted. There’s no other word for it. He went from annoyed to astonished in less than five seconds.

“I think we need to talk,” I said. “Care to join me for a cup of coffee?”

*****

After meeting at a coffee shop down the road an

d ordering a couple of cups of dark roast, we found a corner table where we could talk in private.

“Here’s how it’s going to work,” I said. “I know what you did. I know who you’ve really been working for. I know, for instance, about the witness who fingered Jamila.”

Conroy waved a hand. “I didn’t. It wasn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter. It won’t look good, will it? No matter whose idea it was. Because you did nothing to stop it, right?”

Conroy hung his head. “True.”

“Okay. So, in order for me not to blow the whistle on you, and have your PI license revoked, and make you an accessory to first-degree murder after the fact … you’re going to do me a favor. Got that, old man?”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

After Conroy and I finished our talk, I got on the phone.

“Hey, Jinx,” I said.

“Well, have you decided?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And, yes, I think I’ve decided.”

“Oh, good! So will you support me?” True to form, Jinx ignored my little joke at her expense.

“Actually, before I answer, could we meet? I just have one or two more questions for you.”

“Questions?” Jinx sounded appalled.

“You did say you’d provide reassurance you’d keep your end of the bargain. I’d like to see some proof of that, before I agree to anything.”

Jinx sputtered. “Well, of course. I can arrange that.”

“So … can we meet? At your place, perhaps?”

“No, no. How about that coffee place? Java on the Beach?”

Another round of parry and thrust with Jinx in a tiny dump that smelled like rotten fish? Thank God, it wouldn’t come to that.

An hour later, I stood outside Java on the Beach. The air was fresher and I knew this wouldn’t take long.