Heaven Is High Read Online Free PDF Page A

that he had established a substantial trust fund for his mother. She had cleaned houses in Atlanta to support him and his sister. And he and his buddies had rented a yacht for three weeks and probably had indulged in other extravagant holidays, as well as expensive toys. Barbara hoped he had kept some money. Bailey Novell, the best private detective west of the Mississippi, according to her father, did not come cheap.
    Bailey usually was prompt, and he was that morning. Barbara, watching for his old Dodge, already had her jacket on, purse in hand, when he pulled to a stop at the curb behind her own car.
    She met him on the sidewalk.
    From his appearance Bailey was exactly the kind of danger her father had warned her about. He looked like a bum dressed in thrift store clothes that didn’t quite fit. He looked perfectly at home in this poor neighborhood.
    â€œLet’s talk a minute in your heap,” she said.
    He was looking past her at the house, badly in need of paint, with an unkempt yard that had a mixture of wild grass and weeds growing luxuriantly that wet spring. “You’ve got a nerve, talking about a heap,” he said with a shrug.
    He got in behind the wheel and she settled into the passenger seat. The rain had yielded to a fine mist and their breath fogged the windows almost instantly.
    â€œSo what’s up?” he asked.
    â€œYou know who Martin Owens is?”
    â€œNever heard of him.”
    â€œThe football player.”
    He gave her an appraising look. “You kidding? That Martin Owens? Sure, who doesn’t?”
    â€œHe has a restaurant here,” she said, and described the broad outlines of the situation. “Anyway, I wonder if his restaurant is bugged. And I wonder if my house is. For openers.”
    â€œYou flying solo?”
    She nodded. “I assume Owens has kept some of the money he earned playing football. I’ll find out. But keep the cost down. Just in case I have to pony up.”
    â€œBarbara, come on,” he said, sounding offended. He could do that well. “So what do you want me to do?”
    â€œI want you to go to the restaurant. I’ll take my car and follow you, and I’ll invite them out for a little spin while you see if there’s a bug. How long will it take?”
    â€œHour, maybe less, depends. You want it out?”
    â€œNope. Don’t touch it if it’s there. Then back here, and do the same. If I’m clean, then we can talk about the next step. Okay?”
    â€œOkeydokey,” he said. “Where’s the restaurant?”
    She gave him the address and the key to her house, and left his car to get into her own. A few minutes later they were both stopping at the curb outside a neat house with a small sign swinging in the yard, MARTIN ’ S RESTAURANT . It was only six blocks from her own house.
    This house was very well maintained, freshly painted white, windows shining clean with brilliant white café curtains, flower boxes sporting blooms on a narrow porch, and a walk bordered by gold daffodils.
    Barbara left Bailey by his car as she went to the door and rang the bell. When Martin opened the door, surprised to see her there, she put her finger to her lips and motioned him to come out. Beyond him Barbara saw Binnie standing by an open door, probably to the kitchen, Barbara assumed after a swift appraising glance about. The restaurant was tiny, with a few booths, half a dozen tables, and little else. It wouldn’t take Bailey very long. Binnie, at the door, looked as surprised as Martin had been. He turned to her and spoke with his hands. At her nod he followed Barbara out and to Bailey. She introduced them.
    â€œI suspect that there’s a listening device in there,” she said to Martin. “If there is he’ll find it. Can you and Binnie leave for half an hour or so, take a little ride with me so we can talk while he goes about his business?”
    Martin’s face had frozen in