On the Street Where You Die (Stanley Bentworth mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

A real nice river cruiser. He’s got my phone number, but when I ask for his, he changes the subject.”
    “What’s his name? Where’s he live?”
    “Jeremy Pugh. Somewhere around here. I don’t know exactly where.”
    “I’ll call you back,” I said and clicked off the phone.
    I couldn’t blame the guy for liking Amanda. She was in her early thirties, a pretty, single mom with only Rodney to worry about. She got all the beauty genes in our family. She did not, however, get the brainy genes, and she counted on me to solve most of life’s problems.
    “Rodney,” I said.
    He stopped typing and looked up.
    “Look up Captain Jeremy Pugh somewhere in the Metro area, and get me his home number.”
    “Is that the prick Mom’s been going out with?”
    “That’s the prick.”
    After some rapid-fire keystrokes, Rodney read off a phone number.
    I keyed the number on my phone and waited. A woman’s voice answered.
    “Mrs. Pugh?”
    “Yes?” She was a young woman. Not the Captain’s mother, I’d bet.
    “Is Captain Pugh there?”
    “Why no. He’s at work.”
    “Okay. I must have missed him. Is this the Captain’s wife?”
    “Yes, this is Bernadine Pugh.”
    “Okay, ma’am. Sorry to have troubled you.”
    I rang off and called Amanda again.
    “He’s married, Mandy.”
    Silence. Then, “I was afraid of that. My usual luck. What do I do now? I’m supposed to go out with him again on Friday. Meeting him at the O club.”
    “Stand him up. His wife’s name is Bernadine. If he troubles you again, tell him you’ll call her. Or his Commanding Officer. Or me.”
    “How’d you find out?”
    “Good, solid police work. Comes from years of experience. I looked him up in the phone book and called. His wife answered.”
    “Thanks, Stanley .”
    I rang off and put the phone on the desk. Rodney looked up.
    “What was all that about,” he asked.
    “ Your Mom. Made another bad choice.”
    “The Captain?”
    “That’s the one. What’s he like?”
    “Average guy. You know.”
    “Seem to be the combat type? Like maybe a Ranger? Afghanistan or something?”
    “Him? No. What’s Mom going to do?”
    “Don’t know.”
    “She’ll never learn,” Rodney said.
    “She never will,” I said.
    He pointed to the laptop. “Okay, Uncle Stanley. Look at this.”
    I rolled the chair around to see the screen. It displayed a page with the FBI logo and a street map, crosshairs on the map, and some text in an adjacent box.
    “This is where the client’s cell phone is right now,” Rodney said, indicating the crosshairs. “It’s in the Heights just like you said.”
    “I wonder if that’s his residence or an office.”
    “Wait.”
    Rodney clicked and typed. A big picture of the earth displayed. It spun and zoomed in and stopped with an overhead view of a street and some houses. More clicks and the monitor showed the front of the house, a large mansion with a circular, tree-lined driveway.
    “Nice place,” I said. “I’ll have to pay a visit to my old drinking buddy Buford.”
    “Can I go?” Rodney asked.
    “Not dressed like that, you can’t. That’s a gated community. One look at that shirt and hairdo, and the security guard slams the gate down and calls the cops.”
    “You don’t look all that spiffy yourself, Uncle Stanley.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m going home soon. A nap, shower and shave, and a change of clothes will get me past the guard. I think it would take more of a major overhaul for you. No offense.”
    “None taken. I like how I dress.”
    “I don’t mind it all that much, but if you want to get on the client side of this business, you have to conform.”
    “Some day.”
    I pointed at the laptop. “See if you can get into the U.S. Marshals Service witness protection database.”
    “Let’s see.”
    More clicking and typing.
    “There,” he said. “What do you need?”
    “Buford Overbee. That would be the witness’s new identity.”
    Click , click , tap , tap . “ This the guy? I found