D is for Drunk Read Online Free PDF Page B

hated.

                                                                                                                                                                     

    CHAPTER 7
    S ofia read through the papers on her lap one more time. They were Mr. Narek Grigoryan’s water bills. As he’d said, the costs had gone up ten percent three months ago and had stayed high. They had been pretty consistent before. She glanced out the window again. Aidan had moved all of three car lengths.
    “If you switch into the left lane, it’s moving,” she said.
    “No point in stressing out the Lemon Drop. That lane will stop moving soon, and then this one will start moving. That’s how it works.”
    “You drive like my grandmother.” In point of fact, Sofia’s grandmother had been a very adept driver—much faster and more comfortable with risk than Aidan.
    “Sounds like a wise woman.”
    She wasn’t going to get the car moving any faster unless she conked him on the head and tossed him onto the PCH, which didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “These bills show Mr. Grigoryan is right about his water costs. Maybe someone is stealing from him.”
    “Or maybe he has a leaky pipe. Or the water company has a bad meter.” Aidan inched forward another car length. “Don’t make assumptions.”
    “Speaking of assumptions, how was your scientifically calculated perfect date last night?”
    “What makes you think I had one?”
    “Because it was Wednesday.” He went out on dates on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He’d once told her those were the statistically best nights to date. She’d mercifully forgotten why.
    “We were scientifically compatible.” His jaw tightened.
    “Your voice says there wasn’t any chemistry,” she said.
    “It’s not about chemistry. It’s about science.” The car moved forward a foot.
    A jogger on the beach was moving faster than them. She’d needle him a bit more. “Chemistry is a science.”
    Instead of answering, he tapped his phone and country music filled the car— Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to Cowboys as sung by Waylon Jennings. Picking the most annoying reaction, she sang with old Waylon right up until they got off the highway at Cross Creek Road. They drove past a Starbucks, and she had a craving for coffee, but she’d already had a cup this morning. Maybe she was addicted.
    They turned left on Civic Center Way. She’d never been to the water company, but the library was up this way. Aidan parked across from a white building with columns in front. Not fancy Greek columns, more like giant white matchsticks. Golden hills rose up behind the building. Expensive houses perched on top of each nearby hill.
    “I brought you along because Dad told me to,” Aidan said, “and I need you to wait in the car.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’ll get in the way,” he said.
    “How?”
    He took a yellow folder off the dash, opened the door, and got out. She hopped out and followed him. He stopped. “Just wait in the car. Please.”
    Aidan didn’t often say please. Like almost never.
    “OK,” she said.
    He headed off to the water building. She followed him, pretending to turn toward the library, but doubling back. If Aidan didn’t want her to see what he was up to, it had to be good. Plus, she was never going to learn anything if he made her wait in the car all the time. This was a chance for her to practice her surveillance skills.
    He walked through the building as if he’d been there a thousand times. Why would he have spent time at the water building before? She kept back, worried he would turn around and catch her.
    He walked into an office and stopped in front of a desk. The desk held a neat pile of paper, a computer monitor, and a sprawling fern. Why was everyone else better with plants than she was?
    She