Matryoshka Blues (The Average Joe Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

my mantle. He’d be laughing if he was here, and knowing he’s not stabs me in the soul a little.
    “If I was your mother, I’d have strangled you by now.” I can almost hear Tully smiling.
    “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
    “Sandecker called.” It’s amazing how quickly she can change topics. It’s almost like she was born a chick. I mean, in a sense she was, but—oh, screw it. You know what I mean. “He thinks someone may be on to the exchange,” she adds.
    Her tone matches my face—annoyed as fuck and ready to bust skulls. This last-minute shit isn’t working for either of us, and she’s giving me the chance to back out. And I would, but I’ve already packed up all my toys. Unpacking now is an afternoon wasted.
    “Tell me,” I say.
    I notice a piece of paper on my coffee table. It’s the receipt from last night, the one from the bar where I met my redheaded vixen. Something’s scribbled on the back of it, but I don’t have time to read it. I wad it up and shove it in my pocket as Tully speaks.
    “Turnbill, his admin assistant, told him she received an email from the seller. Seems a third party has been asking about the box.” She sounds more irritated at my refusal to back off than at the turn of events.
    “Did Sandecker reply to it?”
    “Not that I’m aware of.”
    She’s going to hate me, but I have to check. “Did you ask him?”
    The pause goes on far too long. Yep. I’ll be paying for that one later.
    “Of course I asked him.” Her clipped tone is so cold I’m practically getting brain freeze. “He said Turnbill was taking care of things.”
    Son of a bitch. Really? That sounds like Sandecker didn’t ask to see the email. It’s a stupid move, and I’m starting to regret my decision to like him. He’s either incompetent, or he’s purposely keeping Tully and me in the dark.
    When you’re dealing with nefarious crap like mysterious boxes and exchanges in the middle of the night, you don’t leave shit to chance, and you sure as goddamn fuck don’t trust your secretary to deal with the unexpected all by her lonesome. You verify, you confirm. You don’t assume.
    So like I said—stupid. Or manipulative.
    A thought does the running man into my brain before slipping on a banana peel and breaking its neck. Say Sandecker is being manipulative. Who’s to say he’s manipulating Tully and me? Maybe he’s trying to put one over on either his devoted admin assistant or his partners, assuming he has any.
    Food for thought. Or, maybe he’s an idiot. Gut instincts, you know?
    I’m sorry, but I’ll take someone’s cash if they’re being stupid. I mean, there are so many dumbasses in the world nowadays that I believe all sane folk deserve something for exercising a little restraint in not Force-choking the crap out of those morons. Whether it’s the jerkwad on their cell phone while they’re doing ten miles under the speed limit in the passing lane, or the ass clown who waits until they’re at the counter to figure out what they’re hungry for, it doesn’t matter. Use your brain, please. That’s all I ask.
    But if I’m being intentionally used as a ploy, or a distraction, or a bargaining chip, then I don’t care how big the paycheck is—I will kick someone’s ass so hard they’ll be pulling shoelaces out of their nostrils.
    “We’re still on,” I say. Gut feelings aside, there’s not enough to work with yet. It’ll most likely be my undoing, but since when is that a radical notion?
    Tully sighs. “I knew you were going to say that.”
    “Pumpernickel donkey bubble ice cream.”
    “Okay, didn’t know you were going to say that.”
    “Exactly. Goes to show you don’t know everything.”
    “I know I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”
    “Anyone else wouldn’t know what they’re getting into. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
    “I’m holding you to that.”
    There’s a tiny hint of pain in those five words, born from a life of