Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 01 - A Deadly Change of Course--Plan B Read Online Free PDF Page A

over and see if your friend can open them, too.”
    “Sure thing.   Let’s get this stuff over to the shop.  I’ve got to open up for business before I lose all my customers.”
    We unloaded everything in the warehouse behind Jason’s shop— where he stored all kinds of parts and machines that he was working on.  I had a small corner marked off with tape on the floor.  That was where I kept most of the larger items—the ones I hadn’t sold yet.  Also, I’d stored just a few things I couldn’t part with when I sold my house.  A cedar chest my grandma had given me when I was a little girl was stored there.  It had become affectionately known as my “hopeless” chest.  We placed the locked file cabinet next to it.  My safe sat next to the chest, and if I brought any more in there, I’d have to move the tape to give myself more real estate.
    I unzipped the case around the laptop.  Pay dirt.   It was a Gateway Pentium laptop.  Those things sold for around five thousand bucks.  I tried to power it up, but the battery was dead.  No surprise.  No telling how long it had been sitting in that storage unit.  I rummaged through the case , but t here was no electrical c ord .  I put it in the front seat of the Jeep with the brief cases.
    “Thanks for all your help, Jason,” I said.  “I’m going to get this stuff home.  I’ve got to work for Carla at the Grille tonight.  She’s got some party or something she has to go to, so I said I’d cover for her today.”
    “Okay.  I’ll give you a call in the morning after I talk to Mark.  I can hardly wait to see what’s in those safes .”
    “I know.  Isn’t it exciting?  I just love this business.”
    It really was an exciting way to earn a living.  Any day, I could end up with a chest filled with jewels or a collection of Norman Rockwell Originals.
    I carried the computer and printer down the dock on my first trip.  Mr. Cartwright was polishing some brass.  “Afternoon, Miss Lace.  Successful day, I hope?” he asked .
    “A great day.”
    I unlocked the hatch door and stepped down into my little galley.  I set the cases on the table and gla nced over at Marty’s bowl.  “Dar n,” I said under by breath.  There he was, belly up.  “That’s it.  I give up.”
    I gave him a brief burial at sea and washed out the fish bowl.  No more pets — I just couldn’t take it.
    I brought the brief cases to the boat and got ready for work.  I’d be late if I didn’t get going soon.  I’d have to try to open the cases after I got home.  I locked the boat up and jogged down the dock to the Grille.  All I could think about was what could be in those cases.

 
                 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    I t was just past midnight when I finally finished up at the Grille and I was beat.  The place was much busier than usual.  I spent the whole shift racing from table to table, then back to the bar.  The clientele were more demanding than usual — I bit my tongue on several occasions to keep from giving some rude drunk a piece of my mind.  I’d learned that the ill-mannered ones tended to be the best tippers — I guess it eased their consciences.  I really wasn’t cut out for that kind of work, but I could put up with almost any idiot if I knew I had to in order to pay my slip rent that month.  I staggered down the dock to my boat.  I had been up since five that morning.
    I removed a collection of small tools from my purse. Gary, the bartender from the Grille, gave them to me earlier, along with some brief instruction s on the fine art of lock-picking.  I’d practiced on an olive and a maraschino cherry.  Somehow, I didn’t think it was quite the same as a real lock.  I sat down with the first case — a very nice brown leather job with the initials RAK embossed on the side.  I played with the lock for ten minutes, with no luck. 
    Growing tired and impatient, I set the case down and went below