Courting Disaster Read Online Free PDF Page A

the press called him.”
    â€œShelly Farms—the homeless advocate?” she asked. Paavo nodded. “If I’m remembering right,wasn’t he educated as a lawyer, and spent all his time fighting city hall to help the poor?”
    â€œThat’s pretty much true, but also keep in mind that Farnsworth belonged to a law firm that specialized in class-action suits, so he had his share of enemies. He kept pretty quiet about it, and you had to dig to find out. The press was on his side in most of his fights, so they weren’t about to blow the whistle on his big moneymaking sideline.”
    Rebecca frowned as she gathered up the pictures. “If he was a lawyer, I’m going to have my hands full.” As one, she and Paavo both glanced up at Bill Sutter, who was sitting at his desk, feet up, eating Cheetos and flipping through the pages of Travel and Leisure magazine.
    â€œHe must be taking a break,” Paavo said.
    â€œIf you’ve got some free time now and then…” Rebecca began.
    She didn’t have to ask twice. “Anytime, Rebecca. In fact, I’ll call a couple of guys who worked with Farnsworth right now. I’ll ask what he was up to.”
    She smiled. “Great, and I’ll start pulling up his vitals.”
    Just then, Paavo’s phone rang. Rebecca went back to her desk as he answered.
    It was one of those women-from-Venus-men-from-Mars type phone calls from Angie.
    After he hung up, he put his head in his hands.
    His partner, Inspector Toshiro Yoshiwara, tossed aside his pen and swiveled his chair in Paavo’s direction. Like Paavo, anything that could take him away from report writing was welcome.A big man, nearly six feet tall and stocky with pure muscle, Yosh liked to say his family was from the “sumo wrestler” part of Japan.
    â€œHeadache, Paav?” he asked. An aisle separated his desk from Paavo’s.
    â€œA five-foot-two-inch headache.” Paavo groaned.
    Yosh didn’t need to ask who. His full, round face broke into a mischievous grin. “What’s Angie up to now?”
    â€œI have no idea. Something about finding a job, ruling out Fisherman’s Wharf, Nona Farraday, and sextants.”
    â€œNona Farraday?” Luis Calderon’s head popped up over a stack of homicide folders. The piles of papers atop the bookshelf behind his desk practically formed a wall between him and the inspectors behind him. Calderon was in his forties, with a mustache and heavily pomaded black hair worn in an Elvis-style pompadour. For Calderon, men’s hairdos had reached perfection in the days of “Love Me Tender.”
    â€œDid you mention her and sex?” he asked with a shudder. “Talk about a ball-buster!”
    In one of the most bizarre episodes in a peculiar string of them, at one time the lithe and sophisticated Nona Farraday decided she had a crush on bellicose, belligerent, and bristly Luis Calderon. Although at first he was flattered by the attention of such a beautiful woman, Calderon soon found her irritation at the long hours he worked, his need to cancel dates when someone had the bad taste to get murdered while he was on duty, his poor choice of places to take her to, and her constant nagging about his clothes and hair more than he could abide.
    To Nona’s shock, he dropped her and refused to answer her phone calls. Nona had never been so insulted in her life. What added even more insult to her already injured ego was when Calderon began dating a muscle-bound, Harley-driving female shoe repairperson.
    That relationship didn’t last long, either, however. Everyone suspected it was because Calderon didn’t like dating someone who was meaner and tougher than he was.
    â€œShe’s not coming here, is she?” Calderon asked nervously, as if expecting Nona to swoop down on him like the wicked Witch of Endor.
    â€œNo. Angie ran into her yesterday and now she’s all