Memories of Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

an office paneled in cheap
plastic made to look like wood, buried in the Southeast section of Washington,
D.C., Happy Murphy, private investigator, tossed a dozen photos of Sarah
Hollings down on his desk. He shared the small space with Raco Miner, who handled mostly divorce work. Lonnie Garson, a plump man with acne
and slicked back, dirty blond hair sat in a molded plastic chair, waiting for Raco .
    “Damn,” Happy muttered under his
breath.
    “What’s the matter?” Lonnie sauntered
over to Happy’s desk and rested his butt on the
corner.
    “The end of a nice piece of
business.” Happy spoke more to himself than to Lonnie.
    “Yeah?” Lonnie’s piggy little eyes
lit on the scattered photographs.
    “Taking pictures of this kid. Looks
just like her mother, Cara Brewster.”
    “The movie star?” Lonnie moved
closer, his gaze perusing the photos.
    “Yeah. Kid moved away, and the job’s
gone south. Shit. It paid real good, too.”
    “Got any naked pics of this kid?” Lonnie’s tone was nonchalant. He spoke while keeping his eyes
glued to the photographs.
    Happy’s face clouded over, and his brow wrinkled. “Hey! Watch your mouth! This is a
little girl we’re talkin ’ about here. Don’t get
disgusting.”
    Lonnie put his hands up. “Okay,
okay. Don’t shit a brick. Just askin ’. People are
into all kinds of weird shit.”
    “None of that perverted crap happens
here in this office. Got that?” Happy balled his fingers into a fist.
    “Sure, sure. Got it.” Lonnie straightened.
“Know where this kid moved to?”
    Happy eyed him suspiciously. “ Naw . Why do you want to know?”
    “No reason. Just curious. D.C.’s a
nice place to live’s all.” Lonnie lowered his gaze to
the snapshots of Sarah again.
    Happy watched the paunchy man. A
small light in Lonnie’s eyes made the P. I. sick to his stomach. He thought he
might actually throw up. “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you, you disgusting perv . Raco isn’t here. Buzz off.
Get outta here. And don’t come back.” Happy pulled back his muscular arm as if
to take a swing.
    Lonnie showed his palms. “What’d I
do?” He feigned innocence, dropped his hands, and shrugged his shoulders.
    “Fucking scumbag. You make me sick.”
Happy shoved Lonnie out the door, closed it, and locked it in the man’s face.
    “Fucking pervert. Gotta get those pictures to Cara,” he said, talking to
himself. He picked them up, counted them, and then put them down. He counted
and recounted ten times but came up with the same number—eleven. “I know there
were twelve.” He looked under a small pile of papers, searched the floor under
the desk. Then he patted all his pockets…but no picture. Happy went back into
the digital camera and checked there.
    “Yup. Twelve. And they have her name
on the back. Shit!” He ran to the door and yanked it open. Looking up and down
the empty sidewalk, he didn’t see any sign of Lonnie, who was long gone. Pouring
two fingers of scotch in a glass, he picked up the phone and ran his hand
through his hair.
    “I’d like to report a theft. A
picture. Maybe I’d better explain...”

 
 
 
 
    Chapter Three

 
 
    New York City

 
    The moving van arrived. Jane and Grant
spent the day directing the delivery of box after box of their belongings.
Tables, chairs, big and small containers filled with books cluttered up each
room until they could hardly walk from room to room. Dust churned in the air,
suffocating Grant as he attacked each carton with determination.
    The apartment was in a pre-war building, meaning it was built
before World War II. The rooms were spacious with freshly refinished wood
floors and beautiful molding along the ceilings and floors. The windows were
tall and on the narrow side, especially in the living room. Jane sized them up
and muttered, “Custom drapes,” to no one in particular. Their casements were
old oak, polished to a smooth patina.
    All the walls were painted a creamy
white. Grant was