A Criminal to Remember (A Monty Haaviko Thriller) Read Online Free PDF Page B

a guess I put them in their late twenties or early thirties. They didn’t look like cops and they were too well dressed to be reporters, so I didn’t slam the door but instead asked, “May I help you?”
    The man reached into his shirt pocket and produced a business card with a practiced flourish and handed it to me. I took it and read, “Dean Pritchard—Consultant” followed by a cell number, land line, fax number, email address and website. The card was of heavy bond paper with raised lettering, tastefully done with black ink on an old ivory-coloured stock. Reflexively I glanced at their shoes, which were well-shined with heavy stitching, made of a creamy-looking leather that had never been stretched, dyed or sewn. Shoes are an easy way to tell the wealth of a person. Rich people do not buy cheap shoes. I’m not sure they know how to buy them.
    When I offered the card back the man refused and I complained, “Your card doesn’t actually tell me very much. What do you need?”
    “May we come in?”
    His voice was smooth and I unlocked the two chains and removed the floor plate lock to let them in. “My wife and I are just finishing dinner. Please come in though. Have a seat in the living room.”
    I wanted to find out what they wanted and why and quickly. Inviting them in was the fastest way to get answers. Frankly neither of them scared me or I’d insist on meeting them somewhere else. Here, in my home, I had an advantage. And a few assorted tricks that I could always use.
    They came in and shook my hand and then Claire came over and they shook her hand as well. When the amenities were over Dean spoke. “We won’t take long. We’re here to find out if you’re interested in a proposal, Mr. Haaviko.”
    I motioned for everyone to sit down and then I asked, “A proposal?”
    “Yes. We saw you on the news and we think you’re exactly the kind of person the city needs.”
    Claire didn’t even crack a smile as she said, “The city needs a goat?”
    I love my wife but I chose that moment to ignore her. I walked back to the door, spun the crowbar back into the umbrella stand and said, “What are you talking about?”
    “You are exactly the person the city’s new police advisory commission needs.”
    “Police advisory commission? I don’t think so … I’m a convicted ex-felon. We, as a group, generally have very little to do with the police, if we can avoid it. They don’t like us. We don’t like them. It’s kind of a system we have.”
    The woman, Mrs. Brenda Geraghty, according to her card, nodded. “We know all about you. Convictions for armed robberies, possession of narcotics, possession of prohibited weapons, burglaries, assaults, attempted murders, frauds—it’s an extensive list. And arrests for multiple-murder last year, although those charges were dropped.”
    Dean took over. “Anyhow, that was all in the past. We’re interested in having you run for the job right now. It’s an elected position and the election takes place in September, so we have to declare soon. Then we can put a support team in place and get your campaign happening.”
    My head was spinning and Claire was looking profoundly amused. Fred finished his supper, climbed down from his booster chair and came over. I picked him up and put him on my knee before answering, “Uh. Thank you. But I don’t think so.“
    Dean went on, “The position pays quite well. More than babysitting. And it will be very simple to do: not a lot of work at all.”
    “That’s nice.” Alarms went off in my head. They knew my criminal record, although the news could have given them that. The babysitting job was less well known. Reporters were loath to mention anything to do with kids, so these two in front of me had done some research.
    Brenda reached over, patted Fred and said, “Well, think about it. We can talk about it tomorrow. We’ll call you then.”
    Dean stood. “Just so you know. Off the record, we’re offering to cover the costs