Attorney's Run (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order) Read Online Free PDF Page A

crystal-clear speakers.
    Teffinger cranked up the volume and plopped down on English’s couch, wondering if there was anything else he should do before he left. The song was so simple, so obvious, that it didn’t seem as if anyone had written it. It seemed more like one of those songs that were always there somewhere in the universe and then just finally got spotted by someone who happened to be in the right place at the right time, like John Denver’s “Country Roads” or the Beach Boys’ “Don’t Worry Baby;” even “Born to Run” to some extent.
    Venta Devenelle.
    Who was she?
     
    WHEN TEFFINGER GOT BACK TO HEADQUARTERS he by-passed the elevators in the parking garage and walked straight up to the sixth floor to see if Paul Kubiak had any luck processing Alan English’s computer.
    Before he pushed through the door, he realized that his left hand was empty, so he walked down to homicide on the third floor, got a cup of coffee, and then got out of there before anyone could corner him.
    He headed back up the stairs, sipping on the way.
    Luckily, Kubiak hadn’t gone to lunch early. The man scratched his big old truck-driver’s gut and said, “The rumor is that you have some hot woman hunting you down.”
    Teffinger made a sour face.
    “This place is worse than a sewing circle,” he said.
    “Same thing happened to me once,” Kubiak said.
    Teffinger cocked his head.
    “Oh?”
    “Only it was because I ran over her cat.”
    Teffinger grunted.
    “Don’t do that,” he said. “You’ll use up all nine of their lives at once.”
    Kubiak grinned, took a bite out of a doughnut and told Teffinger that the computer had already been unlocked and given to Sydney. Two minutes later, in homicide, Sydney said she spent the morning going through Alan English’s computer files. She also tapped into the victim’s email history. There was no evidence that the victim’s relationship with his girlfriend was strained; quite the opposite, if anything. Nor was there anything to point to another woman on the side.
    “The only thing weird that I found,” Sydney said, “was a lot of bondage pictures downloaded onto his hard drive.”
    “Really?”
    Sydney nodded.
    “The guy was a big-time sicko,” Sydney said.
    “Well that’s interesting.”
    “Isn’t it?”
     
    A HALF HOUR LATER, Teffinger finally got through to Venta on her cell phone and arranged to meet her at Wong’s on Court Street for a late lunch. She wore white cotton shorts and an aqua sleeveless blouse. Seeing her for the first time by the light of day, the blueness of her eyes took on a whole new dimension.
    He swallowed.
    She slipped into the booth next to him and whispered in his ear, “I’m still shaking.”
    He grinned.
    “Good,” he said. “Then my evil plan worked.”
    “Worked isn’t even the word,” she said. “I’m already addicted.” She put her hand on his leg. “So when do I get my next fix?”
    The waitress suddenly showed up.
    They ordered.
    Then Teffinger jumped headfirst into the subject, the dreaded subject, on his mind. “One of my partners, a detective by the name of Sydney Heatherwood, found out about you and asked me a bunch of questions this morning,” he said. “When I explained what happened, she said that you were up to something. She said you were probably snuggling up to be able to tap me for information to help your P.I. practice.”
    Venta tilted her head.
    “And what did you say?” she asked.
    “Well, I basically told her she was wrong.”
    “And yet you’re bringing the subject up,” Venta said, “which means you have your doubts. I’m disappointed. I thought we had a connection.”
    “We do. It’s just that Sydney has this sixth sense about people, especially women.”
    “Well she’s wrong,” Venta said. “Are you sleeping with her?”
    Teffinger raked his hair back.
    “No.”
    “Have you ever slept with her?”
    “No.”
    “Have you ever wanted to sleep with her?”
    He