In Plain Sight Read Online Free PDF Page B

as far away from the couple as possible on the off chance that they were conversationally inclined. Just because I wanted to listen to strangers talking didn’t mean that I wanted to talk to strangers.
    â€œWhere is everyone?” I asked Connie as I ordered a shot of Black Label and a Samuel Adams.
    â€œSpring break,” she replied, reaching under the bar.
    A moment later she set a saucer down in front of Zsa Zsa and poured a little of the Sam Adams into it. Then she plunked the rest of the bottle down in front of me and went off to get my Scotch. By the time she’d come back Zsa Zsa had lapped up the beer and was woofing for more. I fed her some pretzels instead. Too much beer is bad for a dog’s kidneys.
    Connie set my Scotch down in front of me and pointed to Zsa Zsa’s collar. “Very elegant.”
    â€œI think so.” It was jeweled—pearls in a rhinestone setting. The all rhinestone one had seemed too gaudy.
    One of my neighbors had said I must have chosen Zsa Zsa because her fur color and my hair color matched. I never bothered to tell them that when I’d found her huddling under Mrs. Z.’s porch she’d been so dirty there was no way of telling her coat was red.
    â€œI bet she’s embarrassed,” a gravelly voice behind me said. “I know I would be if I had to wear something like that.”
    I half turned. My friend George Sampson was standing there. As per usual I hadn’t heard him come up. Despite his size, he was 6’4” and weighed almost three hundred pounds, George moved more quietly than anyone else I knew.
    â€œWhere’d you come from?” I asked. “I didn’t see you at the bar.”
    George nodded toward the back. “I was talking to Sal.”
    â€œI see.” Although Sal was ostensibly a cook, he spent most of his time making book out of the back room of the bar. “I thought you weren’t going to do that kind of thing anymore.”
    George’s eyes narrowed. “We were just talking,” he informed me, his tone daring me to say something else. I guess he was still touchy about the four hundred he’d lost on The Final Four.
    I sniggered. “About world affairs no doubt. I hear Sal’s a real expert on NATO politics.”
    George’s eyes narrowed even more. “Heard from Ken lately?”
    â€œNo, but I’m sure I will,” I lied. I’d lent the guy five hundred dollars three months ago, and he’d skipped town without paying me back. It was still something I didn’t like to discuss. Which George knew. Which of course was why he’d brought it up. I decided it was time to switch to a more neutral topic of conversation. “You look very elegant,” I told him.
    â€œThanks. I’m trying.” Mollified, George surveyed his khakis and the pink oxford cloth button-down shirt that emphasized the black sheen of his skin. Since he’d quit the police force and gone back to grad school for Medieval History, he’d abandoned his hightops, sweats and T-shirts and gone prep. I was still trying to get used to his new look. And his new persona. I had a feeling George was, too.
    â€œAnother Dos Equis?” Connie inquired.
    George nodded and sat down next to me. Zsa Zsa wagged her stump by way of a hello and pawed at my hand to let me know she was ready for more beer.
    â€œSo how’s campus life?” I asked as I poured a smidgen more into Zsa Zsa’s saucer.
    â€œIt’s okay,” he answered, even though his face clearly said that it wasn’t and he didn’t want to talk about it. He started drumming his fingers on the counter. “So what’s up with you?”
    I took a sip of my Scotch and rolled it around my mouth for a few seconds before answering. Then I swallowed and told him about Marsha Pennington.
    â€œYeah,” Connie said as she plunked George’s beer down in front of him. “I heard about it on the